Keys
by colormetheworld
Summary: "Ready?" she puts her fingers against the keys gently, and Maura grips the barre, hardly daring to breathe.
1. Chapter 1

Ten hundred and fifty two days. That's how longs she's been waiting for this day. Through the tinted windows of the family car she watches as they pull up alongside the towering building that is going to be her home for the next year.

Her mother had tried briefly to get her to consider a school with a quadrangle. "Think of the fall, when the leaves change," she'd said wistfully. "Think of sitting under a tree in the quad and doing your homework while the sun sets."

She'd frowned, but hadn't replied, and soon enough her mother realized that saying her daughter would be attending Julliard in the fall was just as prestigious as saying that she had been accepted to Harvard, Princeton and The University of Pennsylvania, and they were having just a _devil_ of a time picking the one that suited her best.

It was true. She had been accepted to all three of those schools, and several others. But her mind had been made up from the moment she received the call from the admissions board at Julliard. She would be going to the city to dance.

"I'll get the door for you, ma'am, and your bags," her chauffeur's brusque voice shakes her from her memories.

"No!" her voice is high with nerves and excitement. She has not had a lot of practice at making her own first impression, but it never went over well at any of her other schools when she was helped out of her car by a driver. "I can manage," she says, trying to lower her voice. "It's just the one rolling suitcase, and my shoulder bag." The chauffeur meets her eyes in the rearview mirror as he pops the trunk for her. She thinks that he is fighting a smile.

"Good luck, Miss Isles," he says. She has never been good at reading people, and she doesn't know if his words are sincere, but she smiles at him anyway.

"Thank you," she says, realizing that she does not know his name.

On the street, with her shoulder back slung over her shoulder, she tilts her head back to look up at the dormitory that she's going to call home. There is a flurry of activity at the base of the building, and she supposes that that is where she'll check in, but for a moment she just stands on the curb and savors the moment. This is what she's been waiting for, building to, for the past four years…longer than that really, ever since she wrapped her fingers around a barre. A group of students pass her, talking excitedly amongst themselves, some of them clutching bags from the school store. Maura can see that two of them are wearing leg warmers and flats, carrying themselves with the perfect posture of a dancer, and her heart leaps in her chest. She stares at them as they pass, thinking that these girls will be her classmates, wondering if they could possibly ever be her friends. She presses her lips together and squeezes the shoulder strap of her bag, continuing to give herself the pep talk that she'd begun in the car.

"You are the best technical dancer for your age group in all of the northeast," she tells herself firmly,

"You've had fifteen years of training in the Cecchetti style of ballet. There is no one you've come up against yet that can touch you."

A smaller group of girls walks by as she says this last sentence, and one of them throws her a look over her shoulder. "Ohmigod," she says to her companions, not bothering to lower her voice. "That girl's talking to herself."

"Please don't let her be _my_ roommate," one of them giggles back.

Maura's smile slips a little, but she manages not to lose it completely. She tightens her jaw and this time, she manages to keep the rest of her pep talk inside of her head. _Speaking to yourself is not socially acceptable,_ she recites. _This place is your new start. You can make friends here. You can._

And with that, she grips the handle of her wheeling suitcase, and follows the groups of students towards the check in tables.

Her new adult life is about to begin.

…

"Isles…Isles…What was the first name?"

"Maura,"

"Speak up, freshie, there's like three hundred other people saying their names, Laura?"

"Um…no…Maura. It's with an em, like Mary."

"So your name is Mary?"

"No It's-"

"Maura, yeah, I got it. Just a joke there, fresh." The boy at the table barely looks at her. He rifles through a stack of folders until he comes up with hers. "Okay…okay, let's see. You're on the 19th floor…ooh, the suite, how fancy. 1933 is your room number. Can you remember that?"

Maura nods, eager to show that she is not such a "freshie," whatever that is. "Yes," she says confidently, "It's Anya Linden's birth year," she says, smiling hopefully, "easy to remember."

The boy glances up at her, confused. "Who?"

"Anya Linden? Famous ballerina?"

The boy rolls his eyes. "Dance major?"

Maura brightens. "Yes! I'm planning on-"

"Don't care," He cuts her off, bending over to rummage around in a bin. He comes up with a set of keys on a tag. He holds each one up as he explains. "Dorm key…room key…lockable space key…got it?"

No. That last one makes no sense to her, but she doesn't ask about it. She nods and holds out her hand for him to drop the keys into. He hands her the folder with her name on it as well. "This has all your information about orientation, first day classes, the name of your first year advisor…all of that." He's already looking at the person behind her. "Good luck Mary-Laura," he says.

"Oh," Maura says, turning back to him, "no, It's Mau-"

But he waves her away, cutting her off again. "I _know_," he says, "a joke, kid. Lighten up."

.

The line for the elevator in her dorm room is very, very long. Maura waits behind a scrawny boy clutching a flute case, and a dark skinned boy with a bulging back pack. There is a huge sign hanging next to the elevator doors that says, in bright red letters, **If you live below the tenth floor, you're taking the stairs. Have your key out for proof you live above floor 10.**

This declaration seems to be causing a bit of a stir up at the front of the line, and Maura shifts her bag from shoulder to shoulder, waiting.

"You shouldn't even be _in_ this building, 'Zoli, Jesus. You got legs like a tap dancer, anyway. Take the fucking stairs."

Maura looks up to see a dark haired girl with a duffel bag the size of a car flip off the student attendant at the elevator. "My key says 17, you jackass," she says, shoving it in his face. "So even your fucking sign says I get to ride up."

"Your bag is the size of a school bus. What, did you bring everything you own to school this year?"

The girl's face darkens, but she doesn't back down. "That's the point of an elevator, you ass. To help people with their luggage?"

"Nah," he says, waving her away. "Take your old, washed up, scholarship ass up the stairs and let the actual freshies take the elevator."

Maura frowns at this interaction. The elevator attendant is being awfully unkind to this girl, and she sees no reason for it at all. If indeed her key says that she lives on floor seventeen, she should be able to ride the elevator like everybody else, regardless of her financial status. She watches the girl lean back on her heels, and for a moment she thinks that there will be an actual fight, but then the girl turns away from the elevator, shouldering her enormous duffel, and slams through the stairwell door. Maura feels a pang of pity, thinking of the thirteen flights that she'll have to climb. But at least the boy had been right about one thing: Maura had caught a glimpse of the other girl's legs as she pushed through the door to the stairs, and she did indeed have the calf muscles of a tap dancer.

She finds her room on the 19th floor without a lot of trouble, and as she rolls her bag up to the door, she realizes it is already ajar. She steps tentatively over the threshold, adjusting the bag on her shoulder, "Hello?" she calls softly.  
"Hello!" a voice calls back

"Hiya!" A second.

Maura stands still, heart pounding, as from around the corner come two girls, both with wide smiles. The first one to reach her is tall and broad, with long, dark blonde hair and disarming blue eyes.

"Hi," she says, "You must be Maura,"

She nods, too nervous to find her voice, but she puts her hand out when the the other girl does.

"I'm Bette," she says, "that's George," we're your suitemates. Maura looks past Bette at George, a mocha colored girl even shorter than she is. Maura thinks she must be a dance major, she's miniature, narrow all the way down to her perfect turnout.

"Maura Isles," she says automatically, "it's nice to meet you."

"I took the single," George says from behind her, and she doesn't move to shake Maura's hand. "I have to sleep in complete darkness, and I take exactly eight point seven hours of sleep a night. That's why I requested a suite."

Bette rolls her eyes like she's already heard this little speech, but when she looks back at Maura, she smiles. "So I guess that leaves you and me in the double," she says good naturedly, her eyes moving over Maura's frame, "unless it's _all_ dancers that need eight point seven hours of sleep in a night?"

Maura shakes her head, looking towards the room that Bette has indicated. "No," she says "I'm usually alright with the normal seven to nine, just like everyone...how did you know that I am a dancer?"

Bette raises an eyebrow, "You're too skinny to play anything," she says. Maura frowns. "Too small I mean...and drama geeks always like to make an entrance. The way you said hello ruled that out right away."

"And it's on your profile sheet," George cuts in, pointing to some papers on the coffee table by the window. Maura walks over to look closer. There on top is her picture, and underneath, several things about her that she has no memory of writing. Maura feels her cheeks start to burn as she reads:

**Name: **Maura Dorthea Isles

**Age:** 17

**Prospective Major: **Dance

**Likes: **Maura Isles is one of the youngest dancers ever to attend the Jofffrey Ballet School's prestigious summer program, having been invited to attend at the age of 10. She is the top technical dancer in the greater northeast, and holds seven consecutive national titles for ballet. She is an accomplished student as well, and one of the youngest members of the Mensa society…  
Maura stops reading, lump in her throat. "These aren't likes," she says to no one in particular.

"You're telling me," George mutters. "I think you misunderstood the assignment, Ms. Mensa Society.  
"But-" Maura says, turning to face them, "I don't even remember filling something like this out. I think that my mother must have-"

"Yeah…" George makes a face that shows how believable she finds this. "Sure."

Maura looks at Bette, whose face is studiously neutral. "Doesn't matter," she says shrugging. "You're not my competition."

Maura is torn between relief and dismay. "But," she says. "I honestly didn't write that...I know the difference between 'likes' and 'accomplishments'." She can hear the desperation in her voice. Bette looks a little sympathetic while George continues to looks sour.

"Wonderful for you, you know the difference," she says. "Around what IQ point would you say that knowledge kicks in?"

Maura colors as Bette snorts. "Lay off her," she says. "Not her fault she's brilliant." She turns back to Maura. "We're going to head to the reception," she says, "I want to scout out the guitar players...or Bass players….drummers…"

George rolls her eyes, and Maura smiles politely. "You're pursuing music?" She asks.

Bette nods, "I play anything you can blow," she winks, and Maura pushes a laugh even if she doesn't understand. "So you want to what...start a band?"

"Ha!" Bette's laugh is loud and staccato, "Yeah girl," she cries, "a band of two...get me?"

"Oh," Maura says, still not quite sure she understands. "Well, I was going to change…" she feels her spirits lift a little at the thought of her outfit, specially chosen for this reception, right down to the new shoes.

"No problem," Bette says, "room's all yours."

Maura smiles at her and rolls her bag into the room off the main area. It's small, just enough space for two single beds, two desks and two dressers, but Bette has left her the bed by the window, and Maura heaves her suitcase up onto it and snaps it open, excitement bubbling in her chest.

Sure, she and her roommates got off to a bit of a rocky start, but Bette seemed nice. And once George realized that she wasn't stuck up and self centered the way her profile made her out to be, they could be friends too. Maura grins, imagining them walking to class together, drinking coffee and complaining about the work load, or staying late in the rehearsal room, both of them together at the barre, fine tuning their routine.

She pulls her dress down over her head, rehearsing conversation starters in her head, careful not to say them out loud.

_So, George is an interesting name for a girl...how did you get that?_

_Where are you from Bette? You have very pretty eyes…_

Yes, Maura smiles at her reflection in the little mirror on the back of the are going to work out just fine.

She take a deep breath, and pulls the door to the common room open. "Okay!" she calls. "I'm rea...dy…." but the last words die in her throat as she looks around her empty dorm room.

They've already left...without her.

….

She spots them again, at the reception. Bette is leaning against a pillar talking to a shaggy haired boy twirling a pair of drumsticks. She waves at Maura when their eyes meet, but does not beckon her over. When Maura catches George's eye and smiles, the girl turns deliberately away from her, continuing her conversation with the group of long legged girls surrounding her, and Maura realizes that they must be dancers as well.

She can feel the heat of panic and anxiety creeping up the back of her neck, and she tries to take a deep breath. She looks around, hoping to see someone else standing alone, or at least a place where she can sit down. She'd brought her iPad along with her on a whim, hoping against hope that she wouldn't need to use it, but unwilling to leave it behind.

But everywhere she looks, there are people, laughing and talking, shaking hands or hugging, nodding their heads vigorously as other people say highly amusing and informative things.

It's too much. Nothing is different.

Maura walks in the direction she is facing, realizing too late that it's the opposite direction than the one that she came from, leading her deeper into the hall. It is too late to turn around without looking ridiculous, and so Maura continues to walk with a purpose until she comes to a door, mercifully unlocked. Praying for an empty room with a chair that she can sit and read in, Maura pushes the door open and steps in, letting it fall shut behind her. It effectively smothers the happy voices of her peers, drinking punch and mingling. She frowns down at her Chanel flats, a pale cream color to offset the fall colors in her dress.

"You were stupid," she says out loud, and there is no one around to criticize her for speaking to herself.

She feels tears burn the backs of her eyes and she wills them away. She is not going to cry today. She is not a baby anymore, and this is not high school. "It's just the first day," she whispers, though she's not sure if this makes her feel better or worse.

She takes a deep breath, and has almost resolved to go back out to the reception and look for her roommates when the sound of music drifts down the hall from behind her. She turns, listening. Someone is playing the piano. Maura listens more closely, whoever is playing is the most talented pianist she's ever heard. She walks towards the noise, the reception forgotten, and although it occurs to her that she could be about to stumble upon a professor who does not want to be disturbed, she cannot stop herself from following the sound deeper into the building, each note laying out in front of her like a stepping stone.

She wanders the down darkened hall, the melody pulling at her, reeling her in like a fish. She's never heard anyone play like that in all of her life, not anywhere.

She comes up on a heavy wooden door, but instead of opening it, she presses her ear against it. The music is coming from inside, lovely and flowing and Maura feels tears in her eyes, though she couldn't say if they are happy or sad.

She doesn't know how long she stands at the door and listens to the mystery pianist. The music makes her forget the girls back in the dorm, makes her forget the terrifying prospect of meal time, makes her forget everything at all. She closes her eyes, leaning her forehead against the door, trying to soak it in. But the music cuts off abruptly, and Maura's eyes snap open as the sound of angry voices.

Maura catches snippets of the conversation, and hears a thud and then what sounds like a piano bench scraping across the floor. Normally she would register what that means, but the notes from the last phrase are still threading through her bones and so she is slow to react. She barely has enough time to step back away from the door before it bursts open, and someone rushes out. Whoever it is, does not immediately see Maura, and the shorter girl is unable to get completely out of the way. They collide with a hollow thunk, and Maura feels the other girl, it must be a girl judging by all that wild brown hair, step painfully on her foot.

"Ow!" She says pitifully, feeling herself trip backwards.

The brunette reaches out and grabs her around the upper arm to keep her from falling, and Maura feels the iPad under her arm slip a little.

For a moment, the girl stares at her, hand still tight around her arm, and Maura is aware of just how close they are.

She is looking up into deep brown eyes and strong arched eyebrows. Italian, she thinks, based on the bridge of the nose and the arch of the cheek bones. This other girl has about four inches on her, and she is all hard, steel edges. She reminds Maura of the older ballerinas she would watch warming up after her lesson. They were too old to dance in any company anymore, but the precision of their lines, the arch of their feet and the complete hard focus in their eyes had always left Maura with the feeling that they were forces to be reckoned with.

That's how she feels looking up at this girl, like she has run headlong into a tornado.

"I-I…" she stutters, trying to think of something to say, but those fierce brown eyes are staring at her…_into_ her, and she can't think of an end to her sentence. She's seen this girl before, hauling a duffel bag up the stairs in her building, but Maura thinks she is too tall and too talented to be just a freshman. She opens her mouth again, searching for an apology, but words have deserted her completely.

The girl makes a face like a grimace, like looking at Maura is hard for her, and she spins on her heel and stalks off.

Maura watches her go, still feeling off balance even though she's righted herself. She barely hears the boy as he comes running up the aisle, calling after his friend.

"Hey!" he calls, when he's level with her, "Jay! C'mon…I didn't mean anything by it."

He glances at Maura and she looks at him with wide eyes.

"Whoops," he says, catching the tablet that slides from her hand before it hits the ground. He makes a noise when he looks down, and she looks down too, to see that her brand new white shoe is now patterned with a boot print. "Aw! You messed up her shoe!" He calls after the girl's retreating back of the dark haired girl. "You didn't even say sorry!"

She doesn't turn around, but turns the corner at the end of the hall and vanishes from sight. Maura stares after her, still dazed.

"Here," the boy holds her iPad out, and she shifts her gaze to take him in. He is small and thin, but with the muscles of a dancer. His skin is a deep chocolate brown and his eyes are light. "Sorry," he apologizes, "she hates orientation day, _and _I made her mad on top of it."

Maura takes her iPad, tucking it back under her arm. "Was that her? Playing the piano like that?"

Frost nods, "Yep."

"She plays phenomenally," Maura says, glancing down the hall to where the girl has disappeared. "I mean, truly phenomenally, I've never heard anyone play Chaminade like that before…is she a senior?" She looks him up and down. "Are you?"

He chuckles, rubbing his short cropped hair with the palm of his hand, "So your foot's alright then?"

Maura blushes, nodding, and the boy continues, still smiling. "No, I'm a freshman. Just like you, and she's…" he hesitates, "she's technically a sophomore, in her second semester."

Maura blinks, confused, "Why does she hate orientation day?"

Frost shrugs, "She hates meeting new people," he says.

"Why?" Maura glances down the hall.

Frost looks at her, brow raised, "most likely because she thinks she'll meet someone like you…you got a question for everything?"

Maura flushes again, looking away. She'd felt the beginnings of hope, at her extended conversation with this boy, and now she can feel all her new found confidence slipping away. She had been asking a lot of questions.

"Hey," he says after a moment, sounding mildly upset. "I was just joking." She looks up at this boy, and he looks back at her still smiling, "I don't mind questions."

She smiles, some of her excitement returning. She's never had an extended conversation with a boy before, not because she didn't want to, but because the boys in her high school were distinctly uninterested in her. And there were no males in her dance classes after the fifth grade.

She colors, realizing that he's still looking at her, but she puts her free hand out, resolved not to run away. The book she'd downloaded to her iPad on social interactions had been clear about how to begin a conversation.

"I'm Maura Isles," she says, looking him in the eyes. "Dance. It's very nice to meet you."

He takes her hand, which surprises her, even though she should have been expecting it.

"Barry Frost," he says, and his smile seems genuine. "Just call me Frost. Drama." He points back over his shoulder, "And that ball of sunshine who almost knocked you over. That's Jane. Rizzoli."

"Music," Maura supplies, and Frost nods. "Yep, top of the freshman class two years ago," he says, and then, looking a little guilty at this revelation, he tries to change the subject. "I saw you unloading this morning actually. I think you're just a couple floors up from me."

But now that the conversation has touched on the dark haired piano player again, Maura does not wish to be diverted. "Jane," she says, trying the name out on her tongue. "I saw her bringing a duffel up the stairs in the Freshman Hall," she says. "But she's a sophomore?"

Frost nods, but doesn't expand on his previous statement. "It's me," he says, "she can't get enough of me." He laughs until he sees Maura's somber expression. "Another joke," he supplies, though he doesn't look put off by her inability to distinguish his levity. "We grew up in the same neighborhood in Boston…I know her from my Junior High."

"Oh…" Maura smiles, but feels as though it is too late to laugh. To cover up the silence, she says, "She really is an amazing pianist."

Frost gives a sigh worthy of any play. "She's _devastating_," he says, "on almost any instrument. But she plays the piano to make you stop breathing."

Yes, Maura thinks. That is what happened.

She stopped breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

There is absolutely no denying it. Maura Isles is a breathtaking dancer. Somehow, she manages to survive the weekend orientatiaon and make it to Monday morning. Every meal finds her alone in a corner of the dining room, pretending to be engrossed in her iPad, and although she sees Barry Frost once across the dining hall, she doesn't feel brave enough to approach him and ask to sit at his table. Monday's breakfast is no different, and Maura eats cereal at a table alone before following the other dancers (at a safe distance) to their first class.

Her interactions with her roommates had not improved over the weekend. George continued to be sarcastic and occasionally downright rude, and Maura tried to avoid her by spending as much time in her room as possible. The problem with this was that Bette was busy entertaining a steady stream of visitors in their small joint bedroom, and although she never told Maura to get out, she did not bother to include her in the conversation.

Maura tried once to enter into the conversation, spurred on by a particularly inspiring passage in her book on social interactions. Bette was sitting at her desk and there were two girls and a boy sitting on her bed. They were discussing punk as a genre and as a lifestyle, and one of them mentioned the band 108.

Maura had turned in her place at her own desk, excited that she could add something, and said (quite bravely, she thought), "Did you know that the band 108 was inspired by the Krishna consciousness? Their guitarist Vic DiCara's real name is actually Vraja Kishor and he's a Hare Krishna devotee, which I find very interesting considering that the punk genre and culture directly contradict-"

"Aren't you a dancer?" One of the girls on the bed had interjected.

"Yes," Maura had smiled, mistaking the question as interest rather than suggestion. "I'm planning on focusing mainly on ballet, although I can't wait to-"

"Then shouldn't you be hanging out with like...dancers?" the other girl on the bed spoke up, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raising, to underscore her question.

Maura had understood then, but she had glanced at Bette hopefully to see if her roommate would offer her any type of help.

_C'mon guys, Maura's pretty cool. Leave her alone._

But Bette had bitten her lip and looked away, and Maura had gathered her things off her desk and slipped out of the room.

"Isn't your other roommate a dancer too?" She'd heard the boy say as she left.

"Yeah," Bette had answered.

"Poor _you_," the girls had droned, their voices curving up at the end in sympathy.

Maura left the suite altogether.

But now..._now. _

Maura follows the other dancers into the large classroom and feels her heart swell. It's a plain dance room, with mirrors lining the walls, and barres through the middle, but Maura can't help the rush of excitement and anticipation that rushes through her at the sight. Nothing she has ever done compares to the way she feels when she is dancing.

"Line up! Ladies, gentlemen! Quickly, please!" The voice comes from behind them, and they all turn to see who is speaking. Their instructor is striding towards them, and at once Maura understands that this is a woman who does not suffer fools.

"My name is Director Whitehall," she says coming to stand at the head of the classroom. Maura finds herself lined up at a barre between a tall skinny boy and a miniscule dark haired girl. She looks up at the Director as she continues. "I am the Freshman class advisor, as well as your instructor for all your basics classes. There are approximately one hundred and seventy of you in the Freshman class, and so there are three reasons, and three reasons only that I will learn your name. The first is that you are an exquisitely breathtaking dancer," she passes in front of Maura as she says this and her eyes fall on the boy in front of her. "More likely however, is reason two, which is that you are a fairly poor dancer who has been coddled." She lifts her hands, and they all assume first position, Maura a beat early. She flushes when the Director's eyes sweep over her.

"What's the third reason?" Someone calls from the back of the class. Maura doesn't turn around to see, instead she keeps her eyes on their instructor, her heart beating loud.

"The third reason that I might learn your name, is if another one of your instructors brings it to me repeatedly." She looks around at them all.

"But I trust that that won't be the case with any of you."

They begin the warm up, a simple combination of positions that Maura masters quickly. Soon, she is able to let her mind wander while her body continues.

There is something about dancing that never fails to lift Maura's spirits. Suddenly, with her hand on the barre, in her worn out shoes, she doesn't feel unpopular our awkward or even socially inept. Anything is possible. Maura finds herself smiling. She could eat in the dining room tonight. Maybe find Barry Frost and his mysterious pianist friend, and eat with them. Maybe she could bring her own friends back to the room. Maura smiles wider, picturing herself laughing with a group of friends while George and Bette look on with matching faces of jealousy.

"YOU!" The Director's bark jerks her out of her thoughts and looks up. She looks around to see who the teacher is yelling at, and realizes with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that everyone is looking back at her. Slowly, she turns her head around to look at the instructor. She is met with two slate grey eyes, and thin straight eyebrows.

Maura swallows, "Me?" her voice still comes out much too high.

"Yes, you, I've called you twice...what is your name?" Her voice is expressionless, and Maura watches her glance down at her clipboard and then back up. "Well?" she says.

Maura looks down and then back up, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees George smirking at her.

"Maura...Isles, ma'am," she says quietly.

"Speak up, child!" the woman booms, moving closer to her, "There will be no mumbling in my class. Your voice is just as important as your posture." She pauses a few feet from Maura, who seems stuck in first position.

"Maura-"

"A _full_ sentence, please," the teacher interrupts her again.

Maura takes a deep breath, and looks up at her teacher. "My name is Maura Isles, Ma'am," she says clearly. "I apologize for losing my focus."

The teacher waves her hand like she is waving away a fly, then she points at Maura's feet. "Second," she says, and Maura finds the position without any thought, reacting to the command by reflex.

"Third," the teacher says, and Maura has just barely gotten there when the woman barks. "Fourth….Fifth!"

She takes Maura through each position at least five times, and then, without warning, she raises one hand in the air, like she's gesturing a choir to stand.

"On pointe!" she cries and Maura lifts herself up onto the very tips of her toes, her arms coming up out of habit.

Her teacher makes a noise, not quite approval and not quite surprised. She lowers her hand, and Maura lowers herself down to the floor, arms coming to rest by her sides.

There is a silence so profound that Maura thinks she can feel it pressing down on her eardrums, and then.

"Did everyone see the way Ms. Isles went up on pointe?" Maura looks up into her teacher's face, trying to discern whether or not she is going to be praised or ridiculed.

"Come here," the woman commands her, and Maura follows her to the front of the class, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

"I said," the instructor calls, raising her voice. "Did everyone see the way this young woman went up on pointe?"

"Yes, Director Whitehall," they chorus at once, and the woman nods before turning to Maura and pointing again.

"Up!" she commands, and Maura does at once, arms lifting again. "Look at this!" the Director calls. "Look at how every movement she does seems to come from somewhere organic," she lowers her voice slightly, "I trust I can take you through a basic, Miss Isles?"

Maura nods, still afraid to meet the woman's eyes. "Yes ma'am."

The Director nods briskly, raising a hand, and the music begins again. "And...one, two, three, four, five, releve, grande jete and down…"  
Maura obeys, her mind blissfully blank, her arms and legs responding through muscle memory.

"Brilliant," her teacher cries, spinning to face the class, "Do you see this? Are you looking?"

"Yes, ma'am," they chorus again.

"There will be no clunky transitions or uneven feet in this class. Your high school dance teachers may have told you that you were gold plated, but until you look as technically delicate as Miss Isles, you are nothing. Fifth!" she cries at Maura, and she slides there perfectly. The Director turns back to the class. "You are not simply a dancer because you _say_ you are a dancer. You are not a dancer because you _have danced _for the past fifteen years." She waves her hands and the music starts again. She gestures that they should all put their hands on the barre, and Maura moves to go back to her spot.

"Not you, Miss Isles," Director Whitehall calls. "You stay up there. Use the barre in the center there, that's right. Miss Chang, I'm going to hope that those feet are a monstrosity simply because you are nervous and not because you have had incorrect training for your entire life. Fix them!"

Maura grasps the barre, trying to keep her smile from splitting her face in two. Finally, now, her roommate and her friends will realize that she is meant to be here. That she is not just arrogant and full of hot air. They will understand that she has come to dance, and they will accept her.

"Miss Macari, is it?" Maura turns to see the Director stop in front of George. "You are doing a passable job," the teacher states. "But soon your passible will become mediocre and then subpar. Step it up!" The teacher passes on, and Maura looks to meet George's eye, to smile at her and acknowledge that even though they got off to a rough start, there is still room for friendship.

But the smile falls off her face when she meets George's eyes. Her roommate looks furious.

And so her first week of classes passes this way. Maura finds herself at the top in all of her freshman basics, even the mandatory English and History classes they have to take that semester.

With every correct answer she gives, she can feel George and her growing group of friends hate her more. For the first two days, she spends lunch in the practice rooms, watching herself in the mirror as she moves, fixing anything she can think of.

But on Wednesday, Director Whitehall outs her by announcing that every one of her students should be "as dedicated as Miss Isles is. I find her here in her free time, working on her feet, as if they needed any work. Some of you could do with a little of her work ethic."

Maura's face had burned scarlet, and she was sure she could feel the eyes of everyone in the class on her back.

As she was leaving, George had knocked her bag from her shoulder, laughing when she'd gasped and knelt down, whispering "my iPad!"

"You'd better hope it's okay, Isles," George had taunted, already turning away. "You wouldn't want to lose your only friend."

After that she'd stopped going to the practice rooms, opting instead to walk down the street to the cafe on the corner and eat there. Alone.

But Friday night, Maura chances the school dining hall again, following Bette and her friends at a distance, so as not to draw attention to herself.

She manages to make it through the dinner line, and is looking around for an empty table or windowsill where she can eat, when she hears someone calling her name.

"Maura! Maura, over here!"

Her first thought is that someone else is named Maura too. It's not too outlandish an idea, that at a school with hundreds of students, someone else, maybe several someone elses, has the name Maura. But then the voice shouts out again, and there can be no mistaking.

"Maura Isles! Yo, Maura! Over here,"

Maura grips her plate of food very tightly, and turns towards the voice. It's Barry Frost, waving at her like they are old friends, beckoning her over to his table.

For a moment, Maura just stands in the middle of the floor, staring at him, trying to make his invitation make sense in her mind, and then when that fails, trying to figure out how this could be a trap.

But Barry keeps smiling and gesturing, and Maura finally resolves to obey him. When she reaches his table, he grins and looks down at his meal again, and she stands there awkwardly, looking around at the other people.

There's a smaller girl with hot pink glasses and dark straight hair, she glances up at Maura and then away, her cheeks turning slightly pink. There's an older boy with muscles that look like they've been chiseled from granite and then….Maura just manages to hold in her gasp. There's Jane.

Barry looks up at her with a mouth full of taco. "Sit down, Maura Isles," he says, gesturing to the chair next to him. Maura sits robotically, looking down at her plate.

"So," Barry says into the silence, when it's clear that Maura isn't going to say anything. "How was your first week at the most prestigious school for the arts in the entire nation, nay...the entire _world_?"

The boy with the muscles laughs, and Maura frowns, trying to work out how they are making fun of her this time. How is it possible that she doesn't ever manage to see it coming?

"Fine," she says shortly, picking up her fork to begin on her salad.

"That's not what Susie tells us," Frost says, pointing across the table at the small dark haired girl, who goes even pinker, and rearranges her glasses.

Looking more closely at her, Maura realizes where she recognizes her from.

"You're in my first period basics," Maura says, feeling a sinking feeling in her stomach. This girl would have told them all about what happened with Director Whitehall. Maura imagines her sitting down and telling them all about how the teacher had made her the model for the rest of the class to emulate, how George's face had gone from unpleasant to infuriated as the class went on and the Director continued to lavish Maura with praise.

The girl called Susie nods, and then changes her mind and shakes her head. "Not anymore I'm not. You'll be out of basics and in with the sophomores on Monday, I promise you that," she says, and her voice is decidedly clear and confident for such a small, timid looking girl. "Where'd you even learn to dance like that?"

At that moment, Jane raises her head and looks at Maura, and the blonde feels like she's been thrown up into the air. "I...I...uh," she stutters, trying to pull herself back together. "I just always have," she says, and then realizing that this isn't enough, "I've always danced, ever since I was a toddler. My mother saw I was good at it, and she made sure to give me all the opportunities I needed to excel." Maura feels her insides tighten in panic as she listens to her own sentence reverberate around her head. It sounds immeasurably pompous and self centered.

"I-I was lucky," she says quickly, trying to smooth it over. "I'm incredibly lucky."

Jane drops her head back down to her food, and Maura feels extremely relieved and overwhelmingly disappointed.

Silence falls over the little table, and Maura is aware of the fact that it is her turn to speak. She takes a sip of water for something to do, and then says timidly, "and...how was yours?"

Barry looks around at her.

"Your week, I mean?" she clarifies. "How did it go?"

"Ah," Barry puts his hand on his chest, leaning back in his seat. "I," he says with a chuckle, "was brilliant of course. Standing ovation in all of my classes...every day."

Across from him, Jane snorts into her food, and Frost pauses to spare her a look of mock disdain.

Susie giggles, and the boy whose name Maura doesn't know chuckles deeply. He smiles at Maura, and she thinks his eyes are kind, different from the sneers she's come to expect from George, or the other dancers.

"There is no doubt where Frost belongs," he says grinning. He holds one of his large hands out across the table, and Maura takes it feeling callouses under her fingers.

"Ian," he says. "Faulkner."

She blushes, though she doesn't know why. His undivided attention makes her feel warm. "I'm-" she begins, but he nods, grin widening.

"I know who you are," he says, "It's nice to meet you, Maura Isles."

"You're a dancer?" she cannot imagine that he would be anything else, and when he nods, she continues. "But I didn't see you in my basics, or in technical."

He shrugs, "You'll see me Monday, I expect," he says, and he throws a cocky glance at Susie, which makes her blush, before saying, "I placed out of Freshman Basics this summer...in my audition."

Frost leans forward, putting both hands around Ian's head, his face going serious. "I don't know," he says, shooting a grin at Maura, "I'm pretty sure I can feel it growing."

Ian bats him away good naturedly, and Maura laughs out loud at the joke before she can stop herself. Jane's head comes up again at the sound, and Maura finds herself smiling at the pianist, quite by accident.

Jane looks caught off guard, and after half a second of eye contact, she drops her head again. Frost throws a tater tot at her. It bounces off the top of her head.

"Jaayy," he calls sweetly. "What do you think?"

Jane looks up again, her brow crinkled. She studies Maura for a moment and then looks at Susie.

"How mean are we talking?" She asks gruffly. Maura looks between them, utterly confused.

"So mean, Jane," Susie says with a nervous glance in Maura's direction.

Jane is silent for a moment, and even Ian turns to look at her, like he's waiting for her to decide.

Then Jane nods curtly, standing up. "Yeah," she says, grabbing her plate. "Sure, whatever."

She turns away from the table and strides out of the hall, stopping to drop her cup and plate into the bins by the door.

Maura watches her go with the same feeling she'd had the last time she'd come into contact with Jane: the feeling that she's been bowled over by a hurricane.

"What...what was that about?" She asks as Ian goes back to eating and Susie pulls her phone out of her pocket.  
Barry grins at her. "Our benevolent overlord has seen fit to induct you into our group," he says, grinning at her. "Welcome to the land of misfit toys."

…

On the walk back to the dorm, Maura learns more about her new friends. Ian, it transpires is a Junior. A transfer from Yale and an ex-football player turned ballet dancer.

"That's not completely uncommon," Maura says, as they cross the street towards their building. "Many coaches require that their players take dance classes to work on footwork, balance and conditioning."

Frost nods, "Sure, yeah, but how many football players do you know that give up the game for the dance?"

Maura is silent, and Frost continues. "Not to mention, how many of those male dancers do you think have multiple memories of football players shoving them into lockers and trashcans."

Maura looks up at him, eyes wide, "But they don't even know him. Maybe he's not the kind of athlete who finds his power in the weakness of others."

Frost stops walking to look at her, and Maura stops too. "What?"

Frost shakes himself a little. "Nothing...that's just...that's an interesting way to say it."

Maura is silent for a moment, waiting for him to say that she is a freak, or at least "weird," but he doesn't, just falls into step next to her again.

"And Susie?" Maura asks after a moment.

Frost glances at her, "I guess she got the same sort of treatment you did," he says. "The cold shoulder? Though not because she's good...probably the opposite."

Maura turns this over in her head, contemplating. She had seen Susie struggling in both Basics and in Tech, the teacher stopping only to frown and shake her head at the girl's turn out.

"So," she says slowly, trying to comprehend. "Let me get this straight. If someone is not good enough, George and her friends are going to make fun of her...but if someone happens to be," she pauses trying to think of a humble way to describe herself.

"Exceptional," Barry fills in, and Maura flushes, but does not contradict him.

"Then they are going to make fun of that person too?"

Frost nods. "You've got it."  
Maura lets out a puff of air, frustrated. "That's ridiculous. So one is only safe from ridicule if one is middle of the road? If one is...mediocre?"

They've reached the door to the dormitory, and Barry pulls it open for her. "You've got it," he says again. "You're understanding things now."

He presses the up button for the elevator, and Maura lets a whole minute of silence go by before she works up enough courage to say,

"And Jane? What's Jane's story?"

Frost glances at her and then away. "Jane's a black sheep," he says quietly, like he's worried that the brunette might jump out at them. "She doesn't just have one story."

He stops talking then, and they step together into the elevator. Maura understands from his silence that he is not allowed to tell any of Jane's stories, and that as much as he seems to be fond of her (and he does seem to genuinely _like_ her, doesn't he?), his allegiance still rests with the mysterious piano player.

"I understand," she says as the elevator dings and the doors slide open on his floor. He smiles at her, turning away as the doors start to close once again.

"See you tomorrow, Maura."

…

Trapped.

Maura backs up, pressing herself into the back corner of the shower as though it could envelop her completely. Outside, on the other side of the curtain, she can hear their voices,

"Grab her stuff!"

"Ew! I'm not grabbing her stuff...that's like, her underwear and things."

"Just do it," George's voice is authoritative. Maura thinks she must have been the best in her high school. The best and the most popular.

There's a scuffling, and then the sound of muffled laughter. "O-M-G," says an unfamiliar voice. "Look at her underwear. What is she, like seven?"

Maura feels shame and embarrassment compress her insides. They are going to steal her clothes and her towel, and she'll have to run back to her room naked. It strikes her as the kind of thing she's read about in teen novels, but something she never thought would actually happen, let alone in _college._ But then the laughter stops abruptly.

"Give those," A new, rough voice has joined the group, and Maura realizes with a shiver, that it is Jane's voice. _Jane _has come out of nowhere. Maura feels her cheeks getting warm again..

"Why?" George's voice is light and nonchalant. "They're not yours."

"There not yours either," Jane says. "Put them back."

Maura hugs herself, leaning back against the tile of the shower, praying that Jane is able to intimidate the other girls into leaving her towel and underwear behind.

_Please let her convince them. Let her convince them and then let her __leave__._

"You're not hot shit just because you're a sophomore," says a voice she doesn't recognize.

"Yeah," George again. "All you are is pathetic, hanging around with freshmen when you're like...twenty five."

Maura hears a couple of sniggers and she shuts her eyes.

"At least I don't have to torment anyone to make myself feel better," Jane says, and her voice has dropped almost an octave. "At least I don't have to cover my lack of talent with bitchiness."

"No," George snaps back at once. "The bitchiness is just an extra bonus with you isn't it Rizzoli."

There's a brief silence, and when Jane speaks again, she is growling. Maura imagines a wolf with it's hackles raised, that's how deadly the girl sounds.

"Put them back. Now."

More silence, and then George, smirk evident in her voice. "Okay."

Maura hears the girls laughing, and the creak of the bathroom door, and then nothing. She waits for almost two minutes, but there is no sound, and she thinks that maybe Jane has left too, the sound of George and her friends masking her exit. Slowly, Maura pokes her head around the curtain of her shower stall, and nearly falls over from shock.

Jane is still there. She's squatting down, over Maura's towel and underwear, which George has dropped into a puddle of dirty shower water on the floor. but what's worse, is that Jane has Maura's dripping bra in her hand. What's worse than worse is that she's reaching out for the other things that are still on the floor.

"OhmiGod," Maura says, almost losing her balance, and Jane jumps to her feet, dropping the bra, her face flushing crimson.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly. "They were going to take your stuff and make you walk-"

"You were holding my-"

"I wanted them to put it back but I think I just made it wor-"

"My towel is soaking-"

"I'd lend you mine but I just used it and it's totally wet t-"

"How am I going to get back-"

The beginnings of sentences, started and truncated abruptly. Maura feels like the world underneath her is spinning. They both fall silent, Jane grimacing at the floor.

"I'm sorry," she says to the tiles.

Maura tries to keep the tears out of her voice when she responds, but panic at the idea of walking the 200 feet back to her dorm room naked is making her lightheaded.

"Thank you," she says, her voice catching, "for standing up for me."

Jane looks up at her, just as Maura wipes her eyes. "Shit," she swears. "I'm sorry."

"No," Maura says, "I'm not crying because of you...I just...the prospect of walking back to my dorm room without any clothes on is not one I thought I'd ever have to consider."

Jane stays silent, and Maura finds herself rambling, just to fill the air. "I'm not ashamed of my body," she says, "It's just that...I just feel that modesty is-"

"Wait," Jane says, and then realizing she's interrupted. "Sorry...I just...well...here," and without waiting for any type of answer from the blonde, Jane pulls her t-shirt up and over her head. Once off, she pulls it right side out and hold it out towards the shower.

"Here," she says, standing in just her sports bra and shorts. "Use this."

Maura blinks stupidly, staring past the shirt at Jane's stomach, flat and muscled. And her shoulders-

"Maura?"

She shakes her head and looks up into dark curious eyes. "Do you want to wear this back to your room? If you pull at it, it should be long enough."

But Maura's mind is already whirring. "You would make a magnificent dancer," she says before she can think.

Jane's eyebrows shoot upwards. "What?"

It's Maura's turn to blush, and she reaches out and grabs the shirt for something to do. "You have a bone structure that many dancers would kill for," she says, and so that she doesn't have to see Jane's reaction to this, she pulls her head back behind the curtain and tugs the shirt over her head.

Jane uses Zest.

"I'm music," Jane calls out after a minute. "I play-"

"The piano," Maura supplies, pulling the curtain back. "I know! You play it beautifully, with such emotion." She smiles at the brunette, but Jane seems to be lost for words. She stares back at Maura for a long moment, and then looks away, blushing.

"Okay…" she says. "Well, it's long enough…that's good." She turns and heads to the door. Maura calls after her, suddenly desperate to have her stay.

"Wait! You can come with me to my room…" Jane looks over her shoulder, eyes wide, and Maura rushes on. "I mean...I'll change and you can have this-"

"Whenever," Jane says, waving a hand. "I can grab it whenever." She turns away and heads towards the door, but when she gets there, she stops, and looks back. Maura thinks she _almost _smiles.

"See you at breakfast," she says, and she is gone.

Maura stares after her for a long time, lost in her own thoughts, before finally bending to gather her sodden clothes and head back down the hall to her room.

...

...

* * *

_You all know that I cannot respond to Anons on FF, right? :) If you have a burning question, you're going to have to man up and ask me as a user. Or ask me anon on my tumblr (colormetheworld), and wait for an Anon round up. Please also remember that I am a human, and a nervous one at that...so please be kind, even in your criticism. _

_That being said, thank you to ALL of you who came out for this new story. I...it bowls me over every time. I can't tell you enough. I can't express the depth of my gratitude. Honestly. You crazies. Thank you. _

_happy reading. _

_tc_


	3. Chapter 3

It takes Constance Isles three weeks to call and check up on her daughter, and when she does get Maura on the telephone, she finds that her daughter sounds both irritable and harried, two emotions she has never displayed before.

"I can't talk very long mother, I have Sophomore Technical in twenty minutes and I cannot find my pointe shoes."

Constance pauses, trying get accustomed to her daughter's new tone as well as the words coming out of her mouth, both out of character.

"You've lost your pointe shoes?" she says after a moment. "That does not sound like you."

Maura pauses, and Constance has the distinct impression that she is holding in a sigh.

"I haven't lost them," she says shortly.

"But you've just said…"

"My suite mates have hidden them," Maura cuts across her mother, another first in their relationship.

"They what?" Constance asks, half scandalized, half wondering if she's misheard. "They can't have. Why would they-"

"Because they resent me," Maura says shortly. "They are upset that I am a better dancer, and they have the impression that I am arrogant and a show off."

Constance sucks in a breath, "Why would they ever think that you are-" she begins, but Maura continues on, as though her mother has not spoken.  
"That could have something to do with the profile of me that was sent to them two weeks before they met me, in which the section labeled "likes" was simply a list of my accomplishments.

There is silence, and Constance listens as her daughter opens and shuts drawers and closets.

"Oh," is all she can think to say.

"Yes," Maura says distractedly, "Oh." She exhales sharply, and then gives a muffled cry of "Aha!" and Constance thinks she must have put the phone down to check underneath something.

"You've found them?" she calls, and Maura returns to the phone with another sigh.

"Yes," she says, "They were under Bette's bed, although I'm quite sure George put them there."

Constance is momentarily caught off guard by the names, and notes, with a mild wave of confusion, that one of them appears to be a boy's name.

"Maura," she says, trying to steer the conversation back into something more comfortable. "I'm sorry if what I wrote made it hard for you to make friends…but you are in a league all of your-"

"Why didn't you let me fill it out myself?"

Constance considers, "I thought you might feel obligated to downplay your abilities," she says carefully. "Honey…you are magnificent. I don't know why you insist on-"

"Of course I would have downplayed my abilities," Maura cuts in again. "I would have spoken about the things that I like, rather than the things that I can _do._ I would have answered the _question_, Mother!"

It is like speaking to an entirely different being. Constance removes the phone from her ear and looks at it, as if perhaps she could see down the phone line and into the dorm room where her new, changed daughter is glaring into a full length mirror.

"I have to go," she hears Maura say.

"Wait!" Constance hears her own voice go up, a little desperate, and Maura falls silent on the other end, obeying. Constance wrestles with speech, trying to think of something comforting to say. When was the last time she comforted Maura? When was the last time her daughter needed comfort? "If you need me to speak to the Dean, or the President about the behavior of your suite mates, I'm sure I could get you transferred or…" But this seems to have the opposite of her desired effect, because Maura gasps as though she's been struck.

"Do _not_ call anyone. Don't you dare!" she has never spoken to anyone like this, and it has never crossed her mind to speak this way to her mother, but she plows on, driven by the image of George's gloating face if she had to move out.  
"I'm fine," she says curtly. "It's…I have always been fine."

Constance feels wounded, though she cannot put a finger on exactly why. "Alright, Maura," she says slowly, "if you insist."

"I do…" Maura pauses, and for a moment it sounds like she's going to say more, but then there is a muffled shout, and when Maura speaks again she sounds more cheerful. "I have to go," she says quickly. "I'm going to be late for class."

"We wouldn't want that," Constance says quietly. "I'll call again…soon. Okay?"

"Okay, Mother. Good-bye."

Constance opens her mouth to say good bye, but Maura has already disconnected. She puts the phone down on her desk and stares at it, trying to understand what the emotion is that is pulling at the bottom of her stomach.

It is hours later when she finds a name for it.

…

Maura grabs her bag off of her bed and hurries from her suite into the hall, where Barry and Susie are waiting for her. Frost, as he has told her to call him though she keeps forgetting, is leaning up against the wall of the hallway, staring at the ceiling and reciting something under his breath. Susie smiles timidly at her.

"Ready?"

Maura nods, trying to put the conversation with her mother out of her mind. It's her first day in Sophomore Basics and Tech, and she doesn't want that weighing on her mind.

She'd expected her mother to call in the first week and had waited and waited for the phone to ring. When it hadn't come in the first week, she'd resigned herself to the fact that, as much as she had enjoyed bragging about Maura's superior skill to her friends, that fondness did not extend directly to inquiring about her daughter's day to day wellbeing.

"Thought we were gonna have to leave without you," Frost says, as she falls into step between them. They all have class from nine in the morning until noon, and then pick up again at two thirty, and Maura has come to enjoy, and depend upon the routine that's developed in the last two weeks. She and Susie and Frost walk to class every day together, eat lunch between and then head off together in the afternoon.

They are joined most nights at dinner by Ian and occasionally Jane, and Maura finds herself reveling in their friendly attention and camaraderie.

She makes a mental note not to say the word camaraderie out loud, and turns to Frost, who has gone back to reciting under his breath.

"What's wrong, Barry?"

"Frost," he corrects her for the umpteenth time, "and I have a monologue today, and I think I'm going to shit a brick."

Susie laughs, and Maura rolls her eyes. For all his bravado, Frost is nervous at the prospect of preforming in front of his classmates.

"I hate monologues," Frost says looking gloomy. "I'm a people person, I do partner work," He wiggles his eyebrows at the girls and Susie giggles.

"You're nervous?" Maura asks sympathetically.

"No," Frost says, looking defensive, "I mean…It's just a couple lines. I'm just having trouble remembering them." He looks at Maura balefully, "I work better when there's someone to work off of. The lines come easier than."

Maura nods, though she's not sure she can empathize. Trying to be helpful, she asks. "What is your monologue?"

"Macbeth," He says glumly. "Tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day. To the last syllable of recorded time. And…" He trails off, rubbing his head, "annnnd…"

"All our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death," Maura says automatically. She looks up apprehensively, to see if Frost resents this interruption, the way her peers and teachers did when she was in high school, but Frost is beaming at her.

"Out Out! Brief candle. Life's but a walking shadow," He clutches one hand over his heart, stretching the other one out, "a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more."

"It is a tale told by an idiot," Susie supplies, grinning at Maura. "Full of sound and fury,"

And Barry drops to his knees in front of the elevator.

"Signifying nothing," he says.

Susie and Maura clap, and Maura is full of the lightest sort of happiness possible. The kind that comes when one has friends that are perfectly suited.

"Yes," Susie says, "you should do it just like that."

"Yeah," Frost says, standing up and brushing the knees of his jeans off. "I will, except… you know…I'll do it good."

"Well," Maura says automatically.

"Yeah," Frost says, without heat, "Damn well."

.

The instructor of Sophomore Basics is a tall severe looking Russian man, who does not appear to possess the muscles necessary to facilitate a smile. Frost and Susie had walked her to the door of her new rehearsal room. "Good luck!" they'd whispered simultaneously. "We'll see you at lunch…"

The instructor looks down at Maura's transfer slip and then waves her away without even looking at her. She sees Ian Faulkner towards the back of the class and he waves covertly, grinning. She smiles back and takes her place at the bar behind one of the tallest women she's ever seen.

The girl looks at her over her shoulder and says in a voice that might be more friendly than neutral, "I'm Riley, Froshie. Keep up."

Maura does not bother to give her name, and after that she does not have the breath for it. The instructor takes them all through their exercises quickly, and for the first few minutes, before her body finds rhythm and structure, she has to focus all of her energy on keeping up.

The instructor's name is Kazarezov, and he finally notices Maura during trios. He's broken them up into thirds and teaches them a tricky little combo, and on her second rotation through, he stops the pianist with a sharp clap of his hands.

"Your name?" He asks her, and she answers as she finishes her plié in the absence of music.

"My name is Maura Isles, sir."

He lifts his hand to the pianist who starts up again. "You go," he says in his thick accent. "Alone."

She does as he asks, heart pounding. He doesn't speak for a full rotation of movements, but stands very close to her, eyes moving over every inch of her as she moves. Maura is used to teachers watching her dance, but this man is making her nervous. She forces herself to keep her grip on the barre loose and natural looking, and when she comes up from her second plié she continues to stare straight ahead, even if that means looking directly into her instructors face.

He watches her for a moment longer and then he steps back, squinting a little. "You have form like a swan," he says, gesturing at her neck. "You make this nice and long and elegant," he gestures to his own face, "but you make this elegant and beautiful too. Make the difficulty of dancing look…not so difficult at all."

He watches Maura for a little longer, and then nods. "Your form, perfection!" he says. "You move like water. You flow." Maura flushes with pride. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Ian grin at her. "But!" the instructor points at her. "Your face is detached from the beauty. It does not feel it. Your face!" he cries. "Perfect your face."

It is the first criticism that Maura has received since the age of seven.

It bewilders her.

…

She comes back to her suite after dinner to find that the door to the room she shares with Bette is locked. Taped onto the doorknob is a bright blue sticky note with her name in sharpie at the top. Underneath that, written in pencil are the words.

_Maura-_

_Brandon and I are hanging out in here. Can you give us a couple hours? Thanks, Bette. _

Maura stares at the note, trying to make sense of it, wondering what she could possibly do for the next "couple hours."

"What's wrong super star," George's voice makes her spin around. "You look like you lost your puppy…or in your case, your iPad."

Maura looks back at the door. "Bette has a visitor," she says finally, "I guess they don't want me in the room while they hang out."

George snorts. "Why would you want to be in there anyway? You have a fetish for watching people get nasty?"

Maura stares at her. She has understood each of the words that George has said, but she is unable to string them together into any kind of sense.

"Excuse me?" She asks politely.

George flushes angrily. "Christ, Maura, do you really not understand that they are screwing in there?" She watches Maura's eyes widen with malicious satisfaction. "Yes," she nods slowly, dragging her words out like she's speaking to someone hard of hearing. "Intercourse. Probably on your bed." She shakes her head and turns to her own room. "Christ," Maura hears her say before slamming her door shut.

Maura stands in the middle of her suite, trying not to panic.

"Okay," she whispers to herself, making sure to keep her voice low. "Okay, no big deal."

"Shut up, freak!" George's sing song voice rings out from behind her door.

Maura turns away from her own door, wringing her hands. Barry is still in his night class and Susie is in her Extras class, trying to work on her feet.

As happy and accepted as she'd felt this morning…that's the as alone and defeated as she feels now. She scans the empty suite again, and her eyes fall on the futon that faces their tiny TV. And on the back of the futon is an article of clothing she doesn't recognize. She walks over and picks it up. It's a Boston Red Sox t-shirt, old and worn and…Oh!

Maura holds it to her chest like she's hugging a friend. What was it Frost had told her?

_Our benevolent overlord has seen fit to induct you into our group_.

Okay, Maura reasons, grabbing her keys off the little hook on the wall and staring towards the stair well, overlord was a little menacing, but he had used the word 'benevolent' as well. That had to mean something, didn't it?

It dawns on her when she arrives two floors down on the seventeenth floor that she doesn't have any idea which room is Jane's room. She stands for a moment, kicking herself for the foolishness of the plan, when she hears it.

The music is sweet and slow and in explicably gentle, completely contradictory to the personality she has come to expect from the dark haired girl. For several minutes, Maura just stands in the doorway, shirt still clutched in her hands, listening to Jane play the keyboard.

She sits cross legged on her bed, shoulders hunched over, hair falling through her face, and her fingers move over each key with such sureness, witch such measured confidence and grace, that Maura thinks she just simply has the music inside of her. The notes must be part of her bloodstream; they must come out of her like breath.

Jane hits a high, particularly intricate piece of melody and the sharp melancholy of each easy note hits Maura squarely in her chest.

She hears herself make a noise, a soft, whispery sigh barely audible.

But it's enough to make Jane stop playing a look towards the door. Her brown eyes go wide and surprised to see Maura there, and she jumps up to her feet, the keyboard sliding off her bed and down to the ground with a soft thunk. Two of the keys fall out and onto the carpet.

"What are you doing here? I didn't-"

"Oh my God, your keyboard is broken, I didn't mean to scare-"

"I wasn't _scared_, I just didn't…did you kno-"

"The door was open…I didn't even think to…and then I heard…"  
"Alright wait, wait…_Stop!" _

Maura falls silent as Jane waves a hand through the air. She looks down at the keyboard with the keys missing and she feels like she's going to cry.

"This seems to happen to us a lot," Jane's voice is deep and round, not unlike her music. Maura looks up at her slowly, and is surprised to see that she looks amused, rather than angry.

"W-what?"

Jane half smiles, making her face a little softer. "We both try to talk at the same time…and then I say something stupid that makes you cry."

Maura wipes at her face, shaking her head. "I've broken your keyboard," she manages, her lip starting to quiver again. "It's fallen off your bed and It was me who scared you and made you jump so that it-"

"You didn't scare me," the girl insists, bending to pick up her keyboard with a chuckle, "and those keys have been broken since before we were born." She straightens and sets the instrument back down on the bed, sliding the detached keys back into place. "See?" she says looking up at Maura, "They just sit there. They play if you press them really hard but usually I just play or make songs that don't use 'em."

It might be the longest sentence that Maura has ever heard her say, and it's definitely the friendliest tone she's ever used.

"Oh," she says, because she cannot think of what else to say, and Jane turns away from her, moving deeper into the room.

"What's up?" she asks casually. "If you're looking for Frost, I think he's still in the theatre."

"No…Maura says, watching Jane's back as she rummages around in her desk, looking for something. "I…uh…" why had she come? She's forgotten in all the excitement. She looks back down at her hands, and is momentarily surprised to see the shirt she's still holding.

"Oh!" she says, remembering. "I wanted to return your shirt." She holds it out as Jane turns around. "Thank you so much for letting me borrow it."

Jane takes the shirt from Maura, frowning. "That girl who put you stuff in the puddle," she says after a moment. "She's your roommate?"

"Suitemate," Maura says, and then immediately wishes she hadn't. It makes her sound like a snob. "I mean…she's one of my roommates, yes. I have two. The other one wasn't there."

Jane is silent, contemplating, and then, "She's a bitch," she says easily, "George."

Maura giggles, unsure if her laughter is because she's nervous or because she's not used to the swear word.

Either way, Jane looks pleased. "You have a nice smile," she says, and then she goes red, like she didn't mean to say that.

Maura's smile widens. "Thank you," she says earnestly. "That's really nice of you."

Jane still looks a little mortified, but less so, and she sits down on her bed, pulling her legs back into a pretzel. "You should request a room change," Jane says.

Without thinking about it, Maura sits down too, on the other end of Jane's bed. "Do you think so?" She asks, studying Jane's face. The other girl looks startled but not wholly upset that Maura seems to have invited herself to stay. "My mother offered to call, but I told her not to." The conversation from that moment comes back to her then, and she bites her lip. "I wasn't very nice to her this morning," she says after a moment, "my mother," she adds, because when she looks up at Jane she sees that the other girl is studying her lip, and the way she's caught it between her teeth. She releases it with a blush, and Jane's eyes snap quickly up to her face.

"It's a terrible habit," Maura says, feeling the need to explain. "I bite my lip and my nails…nerves I guess."

Jane blinks at her, and then looks away.

"I'm sorry," Maura apologizes.

"For what?"

"I don't know."

There is an awkward silence, in which Maura studies a poster on Jane's wall of a vaguely familiar actress dressed as a police officer.

"Why weren't you nice to your mother?" Jane asks out of the blue, and Maura turns to look at her again. The brunette is looking down at the blanket underneath her legs, picking idly at a scab.

"What…oh," Maura shakes her head, "She filled out the freshman profile for me, without telling me, and instead of putting my interests and likes down in the correct box, she simply listed out all of my accomplishments."

Jane grimaces at the bed cover. "Yikes."

"Yes, yikes."

They fall quiet again, but Maura decides that she likes the quiet. It's different from hanging out with Barry or Susie, both of whom like to talk and do a lot of it when she is with them. But Jane seems to listen to everything Maura says, and then take her time digesting it.

Like it matters.

"Did she apologize?" Jane asks

Maura chuckles, and Jane's eyes fall back down to her mouth, "No," she says, still smiling. "My mother is not the type to apologize…" She trails off, thinking again about what must have been going through her mother's head when she'd written the profile. "No. I expect she just wanted everyone to know about her daughter's…accomplishments. I don't think she would have found writing about my _interests_ very gratifying at all."

Jane nods at this like she understands, one of her hands dropping to the bed to tap out a melody against the cover.

"I get that," she says with a half nod. "I'm not sure my mother would even _know_ one of my interests if it hit her in the face."

Maura blinks as this revelation washes over her, realizing that this could also be the reason _her_ mother didn't fill in the sheet correctly. When had she ever asked Maura what she is interested in?

Jane rolls her shoulders uncomfortably, and Maura thinks the brunette is regretting her previous statement and all it exposed about her relationship with her mother.

More to cover the silence and show Jane that she has not been scared by this newest discovery, Maura says, "My roommate is upstairs being intimate with a boy…I wonder what her mother would think about that."

Jane stares at her. "What?"

"Well," Maura clarifies, misunderstanding Jane's question as one about the floor plan of her suite. "The one of my roommates who actually sleeps in the room with me…she's being intimate with a boy right now."

Jane's dark eyes fasten on Maura's with a kind of surprised intensity.

"What?"

"Yes," Maura nods, "she left me a post it on my door knob. That's why I decided to come here and return your shirt."

Jane looks like she's either going to be sick or pass out. All the color has drained from her face. "What?" she asks again.

Maura frowns, confused at what she's said that could possibly garner such a reaction.

"Well, I couldn't go barging in on them, could I? I remembered that Bar-Frost, was at the theatre, and then I saw your shirt over the futon in the common room and I decided to return it."

She smiles, and slowly, the color returns to Jane's face.

"Oh," she says, dipping her head so her hair falls back into her face. "You could have kept it…I wouldn't have noticed."

Maura glances around the spare room, at the closet not even a third of the way full, and just manages to keep her remark from spilling out of her mouth.

"Still," she says, "It was really nice of you…letting me borrow it like that."

"You're wicked patient with them," Jane answers looking up into Maura's face. "I'd have already been expelled for fighting if I was in your position."

Maura studies Jane for a moment before answering, "I learned in high school that reacting to the taunting only makes it worse. They'll peter out, eventually."

Jane quirks an eyebrow, "that lesson never stuck with me," she says with a wry smile.

Maura leans forward a little, noticing that Jane leans slightly back, though her face does not register the movement. "Girls were mean to you in high school as well?" she asks, aware that her voice has a hopeful edge to it.

Jane swallows before she answers, her eyes on Maura's face, unblinking. "Yes," she says, and her voice has and edge to it. "Girls can be real fuc-" but she breaks off the swear word and rolls her shoulders again.

"Forget it," she says, growling a little.

Maura nods quickly. "Okay."

Jane runs a hand through her hair, "Imma play again, okay?"

Maura feels disappointment start to well up in her chest. _Don't cry. You are not a baby. _"Okay," she says, starting to get up, and Jane glances at her and then down to the keyboard she's pulling towards her.

"You can stay…If you want."

Maura bites her lip. "Are you sure?"

Jane shrugs, but her voice is softer when she answers. "wouldn't say it if I wasn't."

So Maura pushes herself back, against the wall, and pulls her knees up to her chest, and Jane puts her fingers against the keys and begins to play, something sharp and jerky, that quickly fades into something smooth and silky and soft.

Maura can't help but close her eyes, smiling.

She is too lost in the feeling of the music, and the excitement of having successfully begun this new friendship, that she does not realize that Jane is watching her, fingers moving over the keys without her attention.

Maura doesn't see that Jane is smiling too.


	4. Chapter 4

Maura knows the definition of nice without looking it up.

Nice: Pleasant, agreeable, satisfactory. Fine or subtle, as in. "That's a nice distinction."

It's not an altogether descriptive word, and Maura is also no stranger to the way it can be twisted and manipulated to mean the exact opposite, but as September blends into October, she finds that it is the adjective she uses the most to describe her newfound sense of belonging.

She and Susie have become real, true, bonafide friends. Maura had been a little worried that her ascension into the higher level classes would pit Susie against her the way it had for George, but Susie hadn't even batted an eye. In fact, she'd asked Maura to work with her during their free time, and so Maura spent countless hours in the practice room, bent over Susies feet, twisting them into the correct position over and over again.

"I don't know how you do it," Susie had said one Saturday afternoon, massaging her arches before sliding into her street shoes. "It's like you were born in first position."

"It's all about muscle memory," Maura had responded, buttoning up her coat. "The brain builds pathways for actions it does over and over again, like brushing teeth or...I don't know, putting a shirt on in the morning." She'd paused, looking over towards Susie to see if she'd lost interest, but the other girl was still looking at her with apparent attention, and so she continued, "we do those two things in almost exactly the same way every time...unfortunately, you've been doing it the same way every time...and…"

"Every time has been wrong," Susie had finished glumly.

Maura had tried to think of a way to cheer her up, to play down the atrocity that was Susie Chang's turn out, but before she could, Susie had brightened. "But you're helping me. And you're the smartest, best dance her I know. That's the silver lining."

God, how _nice._

So, she decides to take a chance. One morning at breakfast, she looks around at them all, Frost and Ian deep in conversation about Hamlet, Susie tapping away on her iPhone and Jane putting away Cocopuffs like a starving refugee, and she opens her mouth.

"Um...friends?" She's not sure how to address the group, and 'ladies and gentlemen' seems a little formal. But to her surprise and delighted amazement, they all stop what they are doing and look around at her.

"It speaks!" Ian says, chuckling good naturedly. "I'd only heard rumors."

Frost hits him on the shoulder lightly, "Well shut up and let her speak then, neanderthal. We've heard your voice far too much in the past weeks."

Maura smiles, glancing at Susie, and then Jane, both of whom look back at her expectantly.  
"Well," She begins. "I have...I have an audition coming up. For the Fall Showcase. Sophomore Tech and Sophomore Basics has to perform, and...we all have to audition for the featured pair, and…" She stalls trying to think of how to continue. Is it arrogant to ask them to come and watch? Is she showing off?

"I'm not showing off," she says, trying to lead with her fear, "I was just wondering if...maybe you guys wanted to come and-"

"Cheer you on?" Susie's excited voice cuts her off. "O.M.G. Can we make signs?"

"I'm in," Frost says, "When is it?"

"Um...2:45."

Susie's face falls. "Noo!" she cries, and Maura is surprised to see that she looks genuinely upset. "That's my extras...damnit!"

"I'm still in," Frost says, "I'm bringing a foam finger."

Maura shakes her head, confused, "is that something I should be concerned about?"

Ian roars with laughter. "Definitely," he says, moving to stand, "I can't make it, Maur, sorry...I've uh...he goes a little red...I've got a date."

Maura nods at him and looks at Jane. So does Frost. She's looking at her Cocopuffs, deep in thought.

"Jane?" He prompts, and she snaps her head up. "You in?"

She looks at Maura, who knows she looks extremely hopeful and probably a little pathetic and can't do anything about it.

Jane's smile is slow, but real. "Yeah," she says, lifting the spoon to her mouth.

"I'm in."

…...

The dance is intricate, but short, and the third time that Maura watches the instructor do it through, she knows that she can pull it off as well. They've tried to trip the students up by merging isolated exercises into several elongated steps. The student that tries to remember each individual move and does not simply let them flow into one larger step will fall behind and get lost.

Maura will not fall behind or get lost.

The hall where they are auditioning is a real concert hall, with the stage at the bottom of a semicircle of seating, fifty rows deep. As Maura's audition group gets up to take their place, Maura can make out Frost and Jane in the very last row. She grins, and Frost waves holding up a gigantic hand in the shape of a number one.

Ah, foam finger. That was surprisingly descriptive, Maura thinks, and she suppresses a giggle as Jane grabs the finger from Frost and slaps him on the back of the head.

She shoots a grin down at Maura, who feels it like a sunbeam directed at her alone.

And then the music begins, and Maura forgets everything else.

When she finishes, she looks up the rows towards her friends, her eyes falling on Jane first. The brunette looks more somber than she has ever seen, her face completely devoid of all color. She stares at Maura as though she's never seen her before, and her face doesn't crack, even when Maura smiles hopefully at her.

When she looks at Frost, he's on his feet, silent cheering, foam finger high in the air.

…...

Maura is the last one up the stairs out of the practice room. She looks around eagerly for her friends and finally spots Jane and Frost leaning against a wall a couple of feet away, deep in conversation. Frost is gesticulating wildly, his face more serious that Maura has ever seen it before.

Jane is watching him, her own jaw set, eyes cast downwards. He must say something that catches her attention, though because for a moment her eyes jump to his face and she bites her lip, either confused or embarrassed. Maura cannot tell.

It's cute, she thinks as she draws nearer to them, the face that Jane's making. She should wear her hair up and out of her eyes like that more often.

Neither Jane nor Frost see her until she is almost level with them, and so she is able to catch the tail end of Frost's sentence before he realizes she's there.

"...just need to slow your goddamn roll, Jane. You haven't even looked at the full situatio-" But Jane spots Maura over Frost's shoulder and he turns to smile at her.

"Hey, Maura!" He says, holding out her hand for him to high five. "Susie wasn't lying. You are a really good dancer."

Maura blushes and looks to Jane, to see if she agrees. The brunette stares back at her, mouth open like she's about to say something, but nothing comes out.

Maura waits a beat and then looks back at Frost, who is now glaring at Jane. "Thank you," she says. "Thank you guys for coming to support me, that was really very nice of you. And totally unnecessary."

"What are you talking about?" Frost says casually as they fall into step and head towards the cafeteria. "You asked us to come, and we're not just going to blow you off, right Jane?" Frost looks over his shoulder at his friend, and the way his expression hardens for the space of a second, makes Maura looks around too. Jane is a little late in reacting and falls in behind them, still looking a little bewildered. Maura glances over her shoulder at the taller girl, trudging along after them.  
"Are you alright, Jane?"

Jane stumbles, catches herself, and swears under her breath. Frost sighs heavily but doesn't look around at her.

"Fine," Jane mumbles, "I'm fine I just...tripped." Jane looks up at Maura, and then away quickly. She reaches up and pulls the hair tie out of her hair so that her long dark locks fall down around her face.

Maura feels a little disappointed, but Frost looks slightly relieved.

"Aight," he says when they reach the front door of the building. "I'm away to my lessons. What are you two gonna do?"

Maura looks at Jane, who seems to be interested in the pavement. "I've got forty five minutes until my next class," Maura says, I guess I'll go back to my dorm. I need the grey warmers anyway."

"Yeah," Jane says, shooting a nervous look at Frost. "Same. Back to my dorm, I mean. I'll walk with you, Maur."

Maura smiles at Jane, and the brunette grins back at her.

Frost looks like he wants to protest, but can't find a valid reason. "Okay," he says slowly. "I'll catch you guys later." He looks at Jane for a long, long moment. "Be smart," he says firmly.

Jane glares at him, and then turns away, and Maura waves and turns to follow.

Barry watches them for a moment longer before heading away in the opposite direction.

…

Jane watches her fold her clothes and put them into the bureau. Maura can feel the other girl's eyes follow each of her movements as she works, and it makes her feel warm...like the beginnings of embarrassment. They've ended up back in Maura's suite. Maura was a little nervous to return there alone, for fear that Bette or George would be there waiting to torment her. So she'd offered to show Jane her room, and after a lengthy silent elevator ride, Jane had stepped off with her on the 19th floor. "Sorry," she'd said, when Maura had looked at her. "I thought I said okay...did I not say it outloud?"

Now, Jane stands awkwardly in the small room Maura shares with Bette, watching Maura put away her laundry.

"I'm sorry Barry made you come to my audition this morning," she says, more to get Jane's eyes off of her than anything else. But her sentence has almost the opposite effect. Jane pushes her hair out of her eyes and stares at Maura's profile incredulously.

"What?" Her voice is harsh, although Maura thinks it must be with surprise. Jane looks very taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

Maura turns to look at her, and has a little bit of trouble meeting those intense brown eyes. "I...I just saw your face after you and Barry watched my audition," she says carefully. "It didn't seem like you enjoyed it very much, which is okay!" She rushes on, because Jane's look of confusion is quickly changing to one of indignation. "Ballet doesn't have to be something you're interested in for us to be-"

"You think I didn't like-" Jane begins, but then she cuts off abruptly. "Wait...what?"

"What?" Maura says, confused. "You don't have to pretend you liked it, Jane. It's not essential to our relationship."

There is a silence in which Jane stares at her for so long, that Maura starts to fidget, using the toes of one foot to scratch at the opposite calf.

"You think I didn't like it?" Jane's voice is quiet, deep and...sad. "Is that what you think?"

"Well," Maura says, frowning a little. "I gave you ample time to tell me that you found it enjoyable, and you didn't do so."

Jane blinks at her. "Enjoyable," she says quietly.

Maura nods, "My mother has always raised me by the old adage: if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all...so I just assumed that you were trying to spare my feelings." She glances at Jane, who looks completely baffled, and then away, trying to fight the disappointment she feels at being right. "It's okay, Jane," she says after another beat of silence. "I am not-"

"Maura, don't you know how amazing your audition was this morning?" Jane speaks across her, but her voice is still the same soft voice she'd adopted a couple of minutes ago. "Do you not realize how...completely…fucking stunning you were? How could anyone not find that...enjoyable?"

Maura turns and looks at Jane, who stares back at her like she's really waiting for the answer to her question.

"I-" Maura can't help the smile that pulls at her lips. "You _did_ like it, then?"

Jane shakes her head, "Maur…" She moves her hands around in a vague sort of way that makes the blonde feel like giggling. "It was...I mean...if you don't get the part, I…" She turns suddenly to look at the closed door that leads out into the main part of the suite. "And fuck them for treating you like shit, Maura," she bursts out suddenly. "Seriously! What do they even know. They are all just...so _jealous_ of you, they don't even have a quarter of your talent in their left pink-" But Jane falls silent without finishing her sentence, because Maura has stepped forward and put her hand on the brunette's arm.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "It's really, really nice of you to say."

Jane frowns a little, but she doesn't lift her eyes from Maura's hand on her arm. "I'm not just saying it to be nice," she says, sounding grumpy. "I'm saying it because it's the truth."

"Yes, Jane," Maura says, grinning, squeezing the arm under her fingers. "I know."

"So you believe me?"

Maura laughs. "Of course I do. You wouldn't say it just to be nice. You're not very nice."

Jane looks mollified and then upset. "Yeah...wait. What?"

Maura backtracks, realizing her mistake a bit too late. "No...I mean. You're not nice just for the sake of being nice. You don't...coddle anyone because you feel they need it."

Jane seems to think this over, her eyes studying Maura's face. "Do you need it?" She asks softly, stepping a little closer. "Do you need someone...to coddle you?"

Maura swallows, but her voice still cracks when she speaks. "No," she says, and then again after clearing her throat. "No. I don't. What I need, actually, is someone to push me. Kazarezov says that my face lacks emotion."

"Kazervoveevov is an idiot," Jane says contemptuously, but when Maura bursts out laughing, her face softens into a smile too. "What? Is that not his name?"

"You know it's not," Maura says, sitting down on her bed and reaching for her shoes.

"Maybe," Jane concedes. "But I like making you laugh." For a moment, she looks apprehensive, like this might be inappropriate to say, but Maura smiles at her, and starts to talk about the health benefits of laughter, and Jane relaxes almost immediately.

"So this Krakken guy thinks you don't use your face?" Jane says, sitting down at Maura's desk and tapping at her iPad distractedly.

"He says that the emotion with which I dance does not show in my face."

Jane contemplates this. "Well," she says after a moment. "What do you think about when you dance?"

The question catches Maura off guard, and she has to think for a moment before she answers.

"I don't think," she says matter of factly. "I just...I dance. You're not supposed to think about the movements. They're supposed to come naturally."

Jane nods. "Yeah, okay...but don't you think about the music?"

"About the counts?" Maura feels a little put out. "Of course I do. I think about when I should be-"

"No," Jane waves her down. "No, I mean the _music_. Don't you ever think about how to connect with the music?"

Maura looks at her. "I...I'm not sure what that means."

Jane pauses, like she's deciding whether or not to trust the girl in front of her, and then she leans forward, just a little bit.

"Haven't you ever thought about the way music gets born? A person has something inside them. It can't be expressed just by talking about it. They can't just sit down with their friends and express what they want to express. It has to come out some other way. Maybe they try all different kinds of ways, maybe they even try dancing. But nothing says what they want to say the way they want it to be said." Jane seems to be caught up in her description already, and Maura can't help but feel sucked in too. There's something about Jane's face as she's talking. It makes Maura want to experience whatever Jane is talking about.

"And then one day. That person sits down at a piano, or picks up a guitar or puffs up her cheeks around a trumpet and everything slides into place. Everything they wanted to say, but couldn't find the words to say...it gets said. People can hear her. They don't just pay attention to her shitty clothes or disgusting house. They stop and they really listen."

Maura opens her mouth to say something, and then thinks better of it. Jane doesn't notice.

"Think about it. Composers can make little dots on lines, and then someone three hundred years in the future can sit down and play exactly what they wrote, what they _felt_, all those years ago. Don't think about it as the thing that tells you when you put your foot where...think of it like...think of it like...you get to put movement to the birth of someone's expression."

For a moment, nothing makes a sound. Jane goes a little red under Maura's unfaltering gaze, but she doesn't look away.

"That's…really beautiful," Maura whispers. She's not sure why she doesn't speak up, but the moment seems to call for continued quiet, and she doesn't want to break whatever spell they are currently under that has made Jane string more than three sentences together. "That's honestly the most beautiful thing that I've ever heard."

Jane's blush deepens and she looks away, almost smiling.

"But I'm not sure I could," Maura says after a second, her thoughts returning to the problem at hand. "I don't know if I could dance like that...connect with it the way you do with piano keys."

Jane takes a deep breath, and pushes her hair away from her face again. Maura wishes she would keep it tied back, like she'd had it this morning. She likes looking at Jane's eyes.

"I could help you," The brunette's words make Maura jump.

"What?"

"I could...I mean...we could, like," Jane looks like she might be in a little bit of pain. "Practice, or something. If you wanted." She lets out a breath like she's been running.

Maura frowns trying to make sense of it. "You want to help me work on my dancing?"

Jane swallows and nods, her jaw already clenched. "We don't...only like...if you wanted-"

But Maura is off her bed and across the little room before Jane can finish her sentence. She throws her arms around Jane's shoulders, forcing the brunette's head into the bend of her neck.

"Thank you!" she cries. "Thank you thank you, Jane! I would love that."

When she pulls back, Jane stands up awkwardly, her face crimson. "Okay," she says. "I should go. I've got classical in ten..."

She's back to monosyllables and abrupt sentences, but Maura can't stop beaming. "Okay...Will I see you at dinner?"

Jane smiles, a real genuine smile that lights up her entire face. Maura feels her stomach flip over with excitement at having been the cause of that smile.

"Maybe. Did you…" Jane hesitates. "Did you want to maybe start tonight?" She is cute when she's hopeful.

Maura smiles. "Yes," she says firmly. "Yes, can we meet in the practice rooms?"

"Eight?" Jane's hands are tapping idly against the door frame, Maura can't tell if she's nervous, excited or impatient. She hopes for the middle.

"Eight," she says, grinning. "It's a date."

….

"Maura?"

the blonde turns from the elevator to see a boy she doesn't know approaching her, wide smile on his face. Maura glances at her watch. It's 7:05, and the theatre she said she'd meet Jane at is only a ten minute walk, though she'd planned to get there a little early and warm up without Jane's watchful eyes on her every move.

"Yes?" She shifts her bag from one shoulder to the other and peers up into the strangers face. He's good looking, with dark hair and brown eyes and a strong jaw. "Old world handsome," is a phrase her grandmother used to use. She pushes it away.

"Maura!" he says again, and sighs with relief. "I'm really glad I caught you. You're hard to get ahold of."

She smiles politely at him, waiting for more.

"I'm Garrett," he says, with a bit of an arrogant tone, as though this should mean something to her.  
"Garrett," she says, holding out her hand. "Nice to meet you."

He takes her hand, looking amused. "I'm Garrett Fairfield?" He asks it like a question. "Our parents worked together on that fundraiser for Syria? We met briefly at the gala in D.C.? You were a freshman in highschool, I think."

The memory comes sluggishly. A lot of people, the clinking of glasses, hundreds of introductions. She looks up at him, perfect smile, pearly white.  
"Perhaps," she says, "forgive me. There have been so many galas." The elevator arrives, and when she steps in, he does too. She feels her nerves prick their ears like puppies. "Are you studying here too?" She asks as the elevator door slides shut. "Are you a…" she takes in his height, the sure way he'd approached her, "Junior?"

He chuckles, "Nice save. No...I'm a senior. I'm a dancer, like you. I saw your audition this morning. It was spectacular."

Maura feels her cheeks get warm. "Thank you."

"Yeah," he says a little distractedly, "I asked my buddies who you were, and can you imagine how bowled over I was when they said, Maura Isles? I mean...what are the odds." He grins at her. His teeth are so white, so straight. "You know, my mother told me you'd been accepted this past summer. She said I'd have to look you up. Wait until she hears, Connie Isles' girl jumped a whole year of basics and tech. Even I didn't quite manage that."

Maura nods. "Why didn't you?" She asks, and he leans towards her, looking pleasantly interested.

"Why didn't I what?"

"Why didn't you look me up? In September?"

For the first time, Maura sees Garrett's facade crack a little. He clears his throat. "Oh...you know...when you get to be a Senior….busy time for all of us. You'll see, when you get here."

Maura nods, supposing it must be true.

"Yes," he says, sounding happy to be back on track. "Just last week, Martha Lozano flew in from Argentina to meet me."

Maura looks up at him with wide eyes, "Martha Loz- From Idam Ballet? You're not serious."

He nods. "Dead serious. She's such a lovely woman. We had such a great chat. It didn't feel like an interview at all."

The elevator dings open at the bottom floor, and Garrett waves Maura out first, like a gentleman.

"That's amazing," Maura says earnestly. "It must have been so exciting. Did she want to watch you dance? What did she ask you? Was she very focused on all aspects of dance, or did she only care about the ballet?"

Garrett laughs, and Maura laughs with him after a moment, though she's not sure why.

"You know, I could tell you all about it if you want," he says, moving closer to her casually, like he doesn't really know what he's doing. "You want to...grab a cup of coffee?"

Maura glances at her watch again. 7:11. It wouldn't be so bad to warm up while Jane is there. She looks up at Garrett's expectant face, smile still in place even if it has slipped a little.

"Yes," she says after another second of hesitation. "Okay, just let me…"

She grabs her sweater from the bag on her shoulder and slipping it on over her leotard. "I've got about a half an hour."

He grins and holds the door open for her, but doesn't say anything. He takes her arm as they head down the steps of the building, and Maura lets him. He speaks to her as though she is a person, he waves at others as they pass on the street and does not seem embarrassed that she is with him. He does not hurry them along.

"So tell me," he says, steering her towards a cozy looking little cafe on the next corner. "Tell me what you're dying to know. I promise not to lead you astray."

In the cold October air, Maura flushes.

* * *

_..._

_... _

_There is an A/N for this chapter...sort of. It can be found on my tumblr (colormetheworld) you are so inclined. But it has a lot of feelings and it goes on a bit...so I didn't put it here. _

_I am overwhelmed and humbled by the response to this story. Thank you so much for coming on yet another ride with me. I hope it satisfies. _

_Happy reading!_

_tc_


	5. Chapter 5

It's ten forty seven when Garrett leads Maura out of the cafe and back onto the sidewalk. Coffee had led to dinner, to dessert and another cup of coffee, and although Maura had started with just formal questions about dance, she'd found that Garrett was an easy conversationalist and that he seemed genuinely interested in her point of view.

The first thing Maura notices as they exit the cafe is how dark it is, and then, for a foolish, panicked second, she resists looking at the clock on her cell phone, as though not knowing the time will make it earlier. Will mean that she hasn't just made a colossal mistake.

But she looks down in time to see the little digital seven switch over to a little digital eight, and she feels her stomach tighten and heave.

"Oh no,"

Garrett stops walking to look back at her. "Something wrong?"

She can't even find words to explain to him how wrong everything is. She shakes her head quickly, hoping the night air will simply dissolve her tears.

"Oh no...oh no."

She starts to speed up, heading back towards her dorm room looming over the smaller buildings in the distance.  
"I'm so, so late," she cries, hearing Garrett quicken his pace to keep up with her. "Didn't I say I had to be back by eight? Did I say that?" She honestly can't remember.

"I…" Garrett's long legs have caught up with her, and he looks mildly concerned. "I don't think you said...what have you missed? Listen, I'll just explain that you were with me and we lost track of-"

But they are coming up on the steps to her dorm, and Maura has let out a cry because there, heading slowly up the front steps not twenty feet in front of her, is Jane.

"Jane!" she calls out, her voice high. The brunette turns around, as Maura runs up to her, out of breath.

"Oh, Jane! Oh, my goodness, I'm so, so, _so_ sorry." Her words are running together, and Jane's impassive face is slipping into concern.

"Maur-"

"I know we said we'd meet. And I had every intention. I just. I met Garrett coming down in the elevator and. It was just supposed to be coffee. Oh, my gosh, Jane. I can't believe that I-"

The concern is gone. Jane's eyes flick to Garrett, coming up behind them, and when Maura turns around to look at him, she sees that he no longer looks very worried either.

"You'll have to forgive her," Garrett says to Jane. "She was out with me, and we just...lost track of time. It's completely my fault." He smiles at Jane and this seems to make her angrier.

"It's nothing," she says shortly. "Forget it."

"I feel awful," Maura says, and she's never meant it more. "Jane, I feel awful...did you wait for a horribly long time?"

"No," Garrett says before Jane can open her mouth, "I'm sure Jane figured it out, she's a smart girl. She would have realized after a while." He smiles at Jane again, and Maura looks towards to brunette too, hopeful.

Jane is glaring at Garrett as though he has insulted her, but when she looks at Maura, her face changes into one that the blonde is unable to read.

"It's okay, Maur," she says roughly, trying, and only half succeeding in sounding like she means it. "I figured it out pretty quickly. It was just hanging out...it's not a big deal." When Maura doesn't look convinced, Jane smiles at her. "Honest."

"Okay…" Maura says slowly. She can't believe that Jane's feelings aren't even a little hurt, but she doesn't want to push while Garrett is standing right there.

"Well we can reschedule, can't we?" She asks.

Jane hesitates.

"I won't forget again. I promise," Maura says quickly. "I'll set an alarm this time." She smiles at Jane, and the brunette smiles back like she can't help it.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Jane nods.

"Okay," Maura says, relief flooding her. "Good. I'll see you at breakfast?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Maura sees Garrett frown, and Jane glances at him for half a second before shrugging and turning away. "Maybe," she says, "I'll see you later, Maura."

"Bye, Jane!" Garrett calls cheerfully.

Jane doesn't answer. She doesn't even look over her shoulder.

Maura watches her walking away until Garrett tugs gently on her arm. They begin walking towards her dorm again.

"I feel horrible," Maura mumbles, all her earlier exhilaration at spending the evening with Garrett has drained out of her. "I did tell her I was coming, even before I met you."

Garrett makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. "She's alright," he says distractedly. "She'll get over it… Hey, look, Maura." He stops walking and turns to face her, and she does the same, eyebrows raised.

"You want to be careful with her," Garrett says it in such an offhand way that Maura isn't sure he's talking about Jane until she looks up at him and sees that he's looked back around and is watching her retreating back, still visible under the streetlights down the road.

"With Jane?" Maura asks uncertainly. "What are you talking about?"

Garrett sighs and smiles at her, like he's being very patient. "She's just not...like you or I...she's not as refined."

Maura frowns. "She plays the piano beautifully though, have you ever heard her? And she offered to help me, and I completely forgot that we had arranged to-"

"That's probably for the best, Maura," he says, taking her arm again. "You don't want someone like her getting the wrong idea."

Maura's frown deepens, but she doesn't say anything. She must look confused because Garrett continues, lowering his voice.

"Look, I'm not saying she herself is one...but she comes from a family of criminals. So she _might as well _be a criminal herself. You weren't here when she started, but she took a long leave of absence...they said family issues. And then they said she was ill," he raises his eyebrows at her. "Cover up. She disappeared for two weeks before they said she was home with her family."

Maura can't do anything but stare at Garrett's satisfied face, aghast. "But...but what really happened?"

Garrett shrugs. "Does it matter?" He asks as they start walking again. "Shady stuff," he glances at her out of the corner of his eye. "She's a predator, Maura, okay? Those froshes she hangs around with are alright, probably, but she's bad news. Be careful around her, okay?"

Maura nods absently, her head spinning. She barely notices when Garrett drops her off at the front door of her suite, and when he asks if he can see her again, she nods vaguely again.

"Can I get your phone number?"

Maura blinks at him, mind still full of all the things she's just discovered. "Excuse me?"

Garrett chuckles, pulling out his cell phone. "Well, usually when a boy asks a girl if he can see her again, she give him her mobile phone number, and then he calls her to make another date."

"Oh," Maura says, "_Oh_...yes...okay, just let me…" She fumbles around in her bag and pulls out her cell phone. They have traded phone numbers and Maura has shut the door on an empty hallway before it occurs to her that she had not mentioned the friends she hung out with.

How had he known?

"Was that Garrett Fairfield?" Maura turns to see George and a couple of her friends sprawled over the couches in their common room.

Maura nods, steeling herself.

"Holy shit!" Says a girl that Maura doesn't recognize. "Are you dating Garrett Fairfield? The _senior_?"

Maura looks at George, flushed and breathing heavily, empty glass in her hand, and feels indignation flare up in her chest.

"What, were you spying on me?"

George throws her a look that is both defiant and ashamed. "Cough up," she says, sneering. "What were you doing with Garrett? Are you moving up to the senior class now, genius? Are they going to give you a diploma next week?"

Maura frowns. "No. Our parents, Garrett's and mine, they-"

"Let me guess," George says, "You're betrothed."

Maura opens her mouth, but before she can answer, Bette's voice rings out from their room. "Jesus, G, give it a rest, for crying out loud," she calls. "Maura, come in here."

Maura throws a look at George that she hopes is a little bit superior, and heads into her room.

Bette is already in bed, and she looks up as Maura shuts the door on George and her whispering friends.

"Hey," she says looking back down at the sheet music on her lap.

"Hi," Maura says tentatively. "Thank you...for telling her that."

Bette shrugs. "She's like a dog with a bone," she says without looking up, "but you gotta get some tougher skin, tiny dancer." She chuckles, looking at Maura for acknowledgement, and then shakes her head. "And brush up on your pop culture," she adds.

Maura smiles cautiously. "I don't know if it's wise, especially in my position, to antagonize-"

"What position is that?" Bette interrupts. "You're a better dancer, a smarter person, and you've got nicer stuff." Maura flushes, but Bette doesn't seem to notice. "She bullies you because she's jealous, and because you let her get away with it. You tell her to shove it one time and you're probably set for a couple weeks."

Bette picks up a pen and makes a mark on the sheet music, and then hums a few bars of a melody that Maura hasn't heard before. This seems to remind her of something and she glances at Maura again, smiling. "Besides...Rizzoli will put her down if she messes with you too hard."

Maura stares. "I'm sorry?"

Bette stops looking at her sheet music to look up at Maura. "Jane Rizzoli? The piano player? I've seen you guys hanging out together. She's a total bad ass. You tell her George is messing with you and she'll end that chick."

Maura feels a lump in her throat, guilt and shame, but her curious spurs her on. "You-you know Jane?"

Bette makes a incredulous face. "Do I know Jane? Who the hell doesn't know Jane? She the best pianist, the best bass player, the best drummer….word is she can play the violin, though I haven't seen it." Bette waves her hands. "She's the legend of the music department. She does most of the Freshman extras, and she doesn't take any shit from anybody."

This is a lot of information to take in, and Maura can feel herself blinking rapidly, trying to absorb it all. She's heard of some of the more advanced students teaching the extra credit classes for freshmen, but the news that Jane has made such a reputation for herself comes as a surprise.

"Wow," she says after a moment. "So...she's...popular?" She's not sure what has driven her to ask this question, but once it is out, she is dying to know the answer. Why would Jane choose to hang out with her little band of friends if she can have her pick of her, and presumably cooler, people?

"Neh," Bette says, looking back down at her sheet. "She's terrifying. Prickly as hell. Maybe said six words my whole Extra. But she played the Joplin we were supposed to be learning with a blindfold on. And I have to say I was better when the hour was over."

Maura sits down on the end of her bed to pull her flats off. She doesn't speak to Bette again, but the other girl doesn't seem to mind, in fact, the feeling in the room seems to be almost comfortable as Maura steps behind her wardrobe to change into her pajamas.

Bette doesn't speak again until hours later. Maura is still awake, her thoughts buzzing around in her head, and at Bette's whispered "Maura?" she rolls over on her side to show she is still awake.

"You should be careful...with Garrett."

This is the second time in less than four hours that she's been told to be careful with someone she's met. She wonders vaguely if she is making the wrong friends.

"Should I?"

"I mean...I don't know him from a hole in the wall, but…" She pauses, and then, "he's a senior. And my mother always says seniors are just trying to get one thing out of a freshman."

"Oh…" Maura says, staring into the darkness where she knows Bette's bed to be. "What's that?"

Bette sighs loudly, sounding totally put out.

"Honestly, Maura," she says and the blonde can hear her roommate roll over.

"Get out more."

…...

Jane is not at breakfast and Frost is just leaving when Maura sits down between Susie and Ian the next morning. He waves at her as he heads out of the dining room, but he looks harried and tired.

"Frost says you killed it!" Susie squeals as Maura picks up her spoon. "I mean, not that you wouldn't but...Oh, Gosh, weren't you nervous?"

Maura shakes her head, "No...the combination wasn't very difficult."

"You're lying," Ian says. "My audition was last night and it was crazy difficult, with the grande jete and then that reverse...I couldn't get it."

Maura stays quiet, hoping not to rub his face in her success, but he grins at her. "It's alright," he says. "You're the ballet queen, and everyone knows it. Next semester, when we pick up electives and have to branch out...you watch your back."

The words are words that George would say, and she waits for the hurt and panicked drowning sensation that usually comes whenever George speaks to her, but, coming from Ian, they feel friendly, warm even.

"I look forward to it," she says earnestly, and Ian laughs.

"I bet you do," he says. "Gonna school the shit out of me in tap and jazz and lyrical and contemporary," he lists the genres off on his fingers until Maura giggles, and he looks back at her, pleased. Their breakfast passes pleasantly, all of them talking and laughing, and Maura is basking in a sort of warm contentment as they load up their trays and head towards the front door.

These are her friends. Maura smiles at Susie's back as the other girl dumps the contents of her tray into the bin. _These are her friends._

"You coming Maur?" Ian turns to look at her.

"Hmm?"

"We were going to go to the school store and then maybe out," his eyes sparkle with mischief and he spreads his arms wide. "You know..into the world?"

Maura grins even wider, opening her mouth to say yes. She has never been invited anywhere by her peers before, and her heart starts to race with excitement at even the prospect of heading out with them now. But something is pressing at the back of her mind, refusing to go away. Something uneasy.

_These are my friends. They are my friends because of Barry and Jane. Jane. _

Jane.

"No," Maura says. "I can't this morning. I have...to go do something...can we rain check?"

They both nod, and Maura watches them head away before turning and heading back towards her dorm.

It's a cool, crisp, sunny sunny Saturday, and the weather helps to bolster Maura's spirits as well as her courage as she heads up the stairs to her building. She will apologize to Jane and set a new date for practice, and Jane will forgive her, right?

Maura holds onto the warm, included feeling from breakfast, and even the comfortable feeling of her conversation with Bette the previous evening.

Things could go right...they could even go well, Maura tries hard to believe her own pep talk. She hears Bette in her head, _you gotta get some tougher skin, tiny dancer, _and as she presses the up button of the elevator, she squares her shoulders.

"She'll forgive me, or she won't," Maura says out loud, glancing around. "Please let her forgive me…"

The elevator door opens, and Maura's eyes widen. There's Jane Rizzoli, deep into an argument with Barry Frost, and they don't immediately see her.

"...don't even know what actually happened, Jane, I told you she didn't fully understa-"

"...blew me off to be with Garrett Fairfield? _Fairfield, _Frost? Like I get that you don't swing my way but of all the-"

Frost falls silent first, looking up to see Maura standing there, and he elbows Jane in the ribs so hard that she cries out, looking around.

"Ow, Fost! What the fu-" she stops dead when she sees Maura, her eyes going wide.

"Hi," Maura says, "Hi, Jane."

Jane looks down at the floor, rubbing her side. "Hey, Maura."

It's now or never. Maura sucks in a breath. "Can...can I talk to you, Jane? Please?"

"Oh…" Jane shifts uneasily. "Frost and I were just-"

"Doing nothing," Barry says, stepping around Maura and heading towards the door. "Thank you Maura, I was just trying to get rid of her."

"What?!" Jane looks a little outraged, but Frost gives her a look, and she glowers, staying silent.

"I'll catch you both later," he calls, and he disappears, before either of them can say anything.

Jane stands looking down at the floor, and Maura hesitates for a moment before saying, "I didn't blow you off."

Jane goes a little red. "Yeah, I know, Maura...it doesn't matter, okay?"

Maura frowns, "It matters a great deal to me," she says, which makes Jane look up at her, face studiously neutral. "I am not the kind of person who reneges on a promise. I lost track of time. And I feel awful."

Jane blinks at her, clearly trying to decide whether or not to take her at face value. Finally, her face softens a bit. "It's fine, Maura," she says, sounding a little less hostile.

Maura steps forward. "Are you sure?"

Jane twitches like she wants to step away, but then seems to change her mind. "Yeah," she says, with a half smile. "We're good. Don't worry about it."

Maura feels like there is no more room inside of her for happiness. She grins up at Jane, and the taller girl grins back, looking a little grudging.

"I'd still really like to practice with you," Maura says, and for some reason, the look Jane gives her makes her blush.

"Yeah?"

Maura nods. "Yes."

Jane grins again, and this time it is a little more genuine. She reaches out and presses the up button to the elevator.

"How about right now?"

…...

"You have to find a song that you connect to," Jane says, pulling out her desk chair for Maura, and then sitting down on the windowsill nearby. "Did you bring your iPad?"

Maura nods, sitting down and unlocking the tablet. Jane had gotten off on her floor while Maura had headed up to her room for her shoes and her music. Now she hands the iPad over and watches Jane's face as she scrolls through her iTunes app.

"Where is all your music?" She asks, after a moment.

Maura blinks. "That is all my music."

Jane nearly drops the iPad in surprise. "Shut up," she says, flipping it over. Her eyes go a little wider. "Shut up, Maura Isles, this is not _all_ of your music."

Maura leans back in her chair. "It is," she insists, unsure if she is about to be mocked.

Jane shakes her head, dark curls flying. "You do not have a 64 gig iPad, with enough room for...tens of thousands of songs on it, and only store….five hundred." She looks up into Maura's confused face, and sighs heavily. "This is really it?"

Maura nods, and Jane pulls a hand through her hair, looking bewildered. "But half of it doesn't even have lyrics."

Maura feels nonplussed. "Well," she says, "most of it is music I've had to dance to, and so-"

But Jane waves her hand, looking like she is actually in physical pain. "No," she says firmly. "Do not tell me about how you only listen to music when you have to dance to it. Also do not tell me about how you don't listen to any lyrics ever," she glances at Maura as if to confirm that's what had been about to happen, and then turns away, reaching under her bed for her keyboard.

"God," she says, and she sounds exasperated, but also extremely excited. "You don't know what you're missing, Maur."

Maura feels the tips of her fingers tingle as she watches Jane fit the broken keys into place. "You've never just lain on your bed and let words wash over you?" She doesn't wait for an answer, but plops down on her bed in front of the keyboard and sets her hands up. "Like…Jesus...I don't even know what to play you. I don't even know where to begin." And indeed, Maura thinks she looks a little manic. Maura smiles, leaning forward in her chair.

"Play me something that's important to you," she says, and dark eyes meet hers. "Play me...the first song that made you want to be a pianist."

Jane pauses, looking thoughtful and then a little apprehensive.

Maura bites her lip. "Please?"

.

_I don't know you but I want you all the more for that_

_Words fall through me, always fool me and I can't react_

_And games that never amount to more than they're meant_

_Will play themselves out_

The first chords of the song grip Maura like physical hands around her shoulders. She leans forward a little more, wanting to see Jane's eyes behind her curtain of hair, wanting to know how something like that can come just from a person's body.

_Take this sinking boat and point it home we've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice you'll make it now_

Maura gets up without thinking about it, moving to the bed and sitting down on the other side of the keyboard. She has a desire to be closer to what is happening. Jane's voice is low and deep like her speaking voice, but clean and clear...like water. Maura wants to push Jane backwards and inspect her. To look at each one of her fingers individually. To ask her how she does that.

_Falling slowly, eyes that know me and I can't go back_

_Moods that take me and erase me and I'm painted black_

_You have suffered enough and warred with yourself_

_It's time that you won_

_Take this sinking boat and point it home we've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice_

It's ending. Maura can tell by the way Jane leans into the last chorus, pushing the crescendo like it's part of her, like there's no other way to play it. Like music always requires every single cell in one's body.

_You've made it now falling slowly sing your melody_

_I'll sing it loud_

The last note fades into nothingness, and Maura opens her eyes. Jane is still looking down at the keyboard, her fingers are still pressing the keys to the final chord, even though the notes have stopped ringing. Maura lets her eyes slide up Jane's arms to her shoulders, her neck. She's pushed her hair behind her ears in order to see the keys better, and in the curve of her neck, faintly visible against her tan skin...one long straight scar. Maura looks away quickly, her eyes finding Jane's face instead. She gasps.

"Oh," before she can even register what she's doing, Maura has leaned across the keyboard and put her hand on the side of Jane's face, her thumb coming up to brush across the other girl's cheekbone and catch the tear that's fallen there. "You're crying," she says quietly.

Jane doesn't pull away, but she doesn't lift her eyes to meet Maura's either. She pulls her fingers away from the keys slowly, like it's really hard for her. She shakes her head slightly, and Maura feels her jaw work underneath her palm.

"No, I'm not," she says after a moment.

Maura wipes another stray tear away. "Okay," she replies. She looks away from Jane's face, at the scar again, and she can't help hearing Garrett's voice in her head. _She comes from a family of criminals. She might as well be a criminal. _It can't possibly be true. There couldn't be anything bad inside this girl who cries over the emotions in a song. Whatever went on while she was out of school must have been painful. It might have been dangerous, even, but criminal?

"Maura?" Jane is speaking to her, and she looks up quickly to see Jane studying her.

"I...what?"

"I asked if you felt it...the music? I was wondering what it made you think of."

"Oh," Maura tries to think of a way to describe the way her heart had felt while watching Jane play. She tries to separate the way it had felt watching Jane play versus how the notes had made her feel.

"It was beautiful," Maura says quietly. _You looked beautiful when you played it._ Maura pulls her hand away from Jane's face, and they sit for a moment in silence, and then Jane takes a shaky breath.

"I was always...really different than anyone I knew growing up," she says, so quietly that Maura has to lean forward to catch the end of the sentence. "I was always...really different, well I mean, not from Frost...but before I knew him, I was alone a lot."

Something incandescent is happening in Maura's chest. Something bright and hot and new.

"Me too," she breathes.

Jane glances at her. "I'd sneak into the BU practice rooms when I was tall enough. Teach myself different melodies that I heard on the radio. My dad wanted me to play baseball, and basketball...and I liked those things a lot but…" she trails off looking a little lost.

Maura thinks about the endless parties and functions that she would attend with her mother. They had never been wholly unpleasant events, she had always found someone to talk politics or history with. But something had always been missing.

"It's hard," she says quietly, picking up where Jane left off, "when people only see part of you."

Jane's eyes are a little wet again, but Maura doesn't acknowledge it. "I suppose that's why I became so dedicated to dancing. I was tired of being a prop for my parents. I want to forget about being two dimensional. Just for a while."

"It's time that you won," Jane quotes.

"Yes," Maura says, "yes, I can see why you chose that song. I can see why those words mean so much to you."

Jane rolls her shoulders, and looks up into Maura's eyes. "But can you feel it?"

Maura blinks.

"You always say you can see how, and you can understand that...but do you _feel _it, Maur? Can you feel it?" She scoots forward on the bed, and places her hands back against the keys, but she doesn't press. "Get up," she says firmly, and when Maura hesitates, she raises her eyebrows. "Get up, Maur, put those flat shoes on."  
Maura smiles vaguely. "They are called pointe shoes, Jane."

"Yeah," Jane says distractedly, watching Maura pull them out of her bag. While Maura laces them up, Jane plays the keyboard idly, and Maura listens to the melody emerge, magically, familiarly, out of nothingness. She stands up and looks at Jane.

The brunette smiles at her "There is fire, and there is lust, and some would trade it all for someone they could trust. There's a bag of silver, for a box of nails. It's so simple the betrayal, though it's known to change the world and what's to come…" she takes a breath, but she doesn't give Maura a chance to speak. She presses her hands down against the keys, fingers moving slowly, her face face full of concentration, and Maura thinks she must be working the combination on a part of her heart she didn't even realize she had. The music is that soft and sweet.

_Come on home. The team you're hitched to has a mind of it's own. _

_It's just the forces of your past you've fought before. Come back here and shut the door. _

_I'm stacking sandbags 'gainst the river of your troubles. _

It moves her. Maybe more than the last one. Maybe because she is standing, but there is no staying still when Jane is playing like that. when the music is lapping against her ribcage like imperfect little waves. She lifts her hands, slowly, eyes closed. She can see the perfect arc of her arms, and the slope of her hips. She can feel herself on relevé. She can feel the music in her feet, in the bend of her neck, on her tongue, behind her eyes.

_...by some will, we string together here. Days to months and months to years. What if everything we have adds up to nothing...home..._

She can see the arabesque before it happens. the music pulls her into it, and she follows. Helplessly.

Only when she realizes that the music has faded, does she open her eyes and look around. Jane is sitting on her bed, fingers still on the keys, staring at Maura with wide eyes.

"I…I'm…" Maura thinks of saying sorry, but then realizes she doesn't want to apologize. She doesn't want to break whatever it is that has happened between them. She doesn't want it to stop.

"Keep going," she says, quickly. "Play another."

Jane obeys, and Maura shuts her eyes, letting the music fill her up and push her forward. When she opens her eyes and looks in the brunette's direction again, she sees that Jane is still watching her, her expression concentrated, like there is nothing in the world that could interest her more. Maura smiles and Jane smiles back, and the dancer knows that whatever Jane is, whatever has happened to her, she is not a criminal. There is not a felonious bone in her body.

Maura smiles wider and closes her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's note is on my tumblr (colormetheworld). The end of this needs to stand alone. _

* * *

_..._

_..._

The days are blissful.

Maura sees Garrett again, several times, and each time she finds something more that she admires about him. He is cool and self confident in the way that all the boys she's ever known have been, but he is also kind to her, and seems to genuinely enjoy her company, which is more than she can say for any of the boys from her past.

And he is a gentleman. Her initial trepidation that he will want to move too quickly towards an intimate relationship is soothed when, on their fourth official date, he kisses her on the cheek and lets her shut the door on him, her heart pounding out of her chest.

"Maybe he has another girl on the side that he's banging," Bette says, when Maura recounts the date that night. Their relationship, while not warm, is definitely improved. Maura does not know to what she owes this good fortune, but she does not question it. "I mean...are you guys official?"

Maura considers the ceiling tiles overhead. "No...I guess not...I guess he might have someone else to...be intimate with." The thought does not make her wild with jealousy, but strangely, overwhelmingly relieved. "That's alright," she says after a moment, "He can be intimate with whomever he chooses."

And Bette snorts in the semi darkness, "if you talk like that when you're with him," she whispers, "he probably thinks your dirty talk would be like...a victorian novel."

Maura rolls onto her side, ignoring the bite in Bette's voice. "My what?"

But this question, like most of the ones she asks Bette earn her a snort and a, "Jesus, Maura, for real?"

There are several minutes of silence and then Bette speaks again, though not to answer the question. "Hey,"

"For horses," Maura says quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing. What is it?"

"You're hanging out with Jane a lot, right?"

Maura smiles into her pillow. "Yes," she says, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. "She's teaching me to appreciate music, and helping me work on my facial expressions for the fall showcase that's coming up. I got the female part of the featured duet, and-"

"Does she ever like...mention the Extra's she's teaching?"

Maura comes up short, trying to remember if Jane's ever mentioned teaching. "Uh...no...I don't think so. Usually she's talking about a song we're listening to. Or telling me that I'm not _showing_ enough in my dancing." Maura smiles again, thinking of the brunette's dark and intense gaze on her as she moves around a practice room. "We're going to practice tomorrow evening I think...I'm just so nervous about the show-"

"If she ever mentions her classes," Bette cuts her off abruptly, and Maura falls silent, "or...me...like, how I'm doing...You'll tell me what she says, right?"

Maura frowns, trying to make sense of this request. "Y-yes," she says after a minute of contemplation. "Sure I will."

A beat. "Thanks," Bette whispers.

A paragraph of Maura's book on social situations flashes through her mind. She rolls so she's facing Bette's bed, and her roommate's outline is just visible in the darkening room.

"I'm sure you're doing very well, Bette. Don't worry."

More silence, and Maura has just given up expecting a response, when there is a tiny sniffle from the other side of the room.

"Thanks," Bette says softly. "Night, Maura."

Maura smiles again, "Good night."

…...

"Give me your hands," Maura says, reaching for Jane. It is late afternoon and they are practicing in an empty classroom a few blocks from their dorm. So far, Jane has just been watching Maura and giving her notes, but the last part of the dance is a lift, and Maura is itching to practice it. "Come here," she says again, "I want you to help me."

But the brunette snaps her hands back out of the way, looking shocked. "What? Why? What for?" Her voice is higher than normal and definitely a little panicky.

Maura stares at her, and then smiles, thinking she knows why Jane has reacted this way. "I'm not going to mess up your perfect piano hands, Jane," she says, chuckling. "But I need to practice this lift, and you are strong enough to pick me up."

Jane's mouth has fallen open a little, and she shakes her head slowly, taking a step backwards.

"No way," she says, speeding up, when Maura comes after her. "No way, Maura, can't you get like...Ian or someone like that to practice with you?"

Maura laughs, finally succeeding in capturing Jane's wrist. "He said he'd come by a little later if he had the chance. He's got another date, or something, Jane _come here!_" She says exasperated. She tugs Jane's wrist towards her and uses her other hand to press Jane's hand to her hip.

Jane stops moving like she's been frozen.

"Okay," Maura says, taking Jane's other hand and placing it where it needs to be. "Thank you," she looks up into Jane's wide dark eyes, and thinks she sees a glimmer of fear.

"Hey," she says, smiling. "It's alright. You don't have to be a dancer to lift me into the air. I have to practice my feet while I'm up there...please Jane?"

"I-I might...I might d-drop you," Jane says, her eyes still glued to her hand on Maura's hip.

"No you won't," Maura says. She knows this as plainly as she knows anything. "Of course you won't. Just lift me up."

Jane swallows. "Now?"

Maura takes a deep breath. "Yes. Now."

And then Maura is in the air. High in the air, over Jane's head, and although Jane stumbles a tad, she steadies herself quickly, and Maura arches her back and then lifts her arms, the way she is supposed to in her dance, and when she flattens her spine, Jane lets her down, setting her feet firmly back on the ground with an extra breath, and not letting her go.

It takes Maura a moment for her mouth to catch up with her emotions but when it does, she throws her arms around Jane's neck, crying, "that was amazing, Jane!" She's a little breathless. "No one I've ever practiced with has ever lifted me like that." She beams up into Jane's face, and the brunette looks back down at her, stares at her, really, like she's trying to memorize Maura's face.

"Y-you're light," Jane says, going a little pink.

"It's your hands," Maura says, shaking her head. She reaches for Jane's hands again, and this time, the other girl lets her take them and place them on either side of her waist. "You have perfect fingers for lifts." Jane watches Maura place her hands with wide eyes, her expression bordering on something like fear.

"Don't worry," she says gently. "You didn't hurt me, or anything. and the more you do it the easier it becomes, you'll see."

There is a full measure pause before Jane looks up into Maura's face.

"Huh?"

Maura giggles, and Jane swallows hard.

"I said you don't have to worry so much about your hands. You didn't hurt me.."

Jane seems to only be half listening. "I'd never hurt you, Maur," she says quietly. Her hand slips around to the small of Maura's back, and the dancer is going to correct her, but something stops her.

"I know you wouldn't," she says after a moment.

They stand there for a long time, and ostensibly, Jane is waiting for Maura to show her what to do next, but…

"Jane?"

"Yes?"

"You're…um…you're staring at my lips," Maura says it, but she doesn't move away.

"Sorry," Jane says quietly, but she doesn't stop. Maura isn't sure she wants her to. She drops her eyes from Jane's, studying the angles of the taller girl's jaw, her neck, and the delicate little scar that rests there.

"Maura…" Jane's voice is quiet and trance like. Her hand in the small of Maura's back contracts a little. "You're so beautiful…c-can I-"

"How did you get that scar, Jane?" Maura does not register Jane's words until she looks up into dark, surprised eyes. "Oh…" she says. "Wait…what? Can you what?"

But Jane pulls away, her hand going to her neck, and then up to her hair, pulling her fingers through her curls so that they drop down around her ears, covering the discoloration.

Maura is still trying to figure out what Jane wanted from her. She is still trying to understand why the absence of Jane's hand on her back makes her feel acutely lonely. "Jane?"

"It's nothing," Jane says brusquely. "Forget about it."

Maura shakes her head and takes a step towards the other girl, but Jane backs up the same amount, looking disgruntled.

"I'm sorry," Maura says, confused. "I didn't mean to upset you…I just…" but she trails off, unsure. The truth is she wants to know everything about Jane, wants to know exactly what makes her tick. What she's thinking all the time.

She sighs, frustrated, trying to collect her thoughts. Something about how close Jane had been to her is making it hard to think.

"Wait, what…what were you going to say?"

Jane shakes her head, turning away. "Nothing," she says gruffly. "Forget it, okay?" She pulls her beat up old cell phone out of her pocket and flips it open, starting to type before saying, "We should go get dinner...or something...like with everyone."

Maura nods, turning away to grab her bag and sling it over her shoulder. "Okay," she says slowly. "But...Jane?"

The brunette turns to her, looking up from the little screen of her phone.

"What were you going to ask me?"

Jane shakes her head, and when Maura pretends to pout, she is graced with a genuine smile and a real laugh, deep and raspy, giving Maura goosebumps.

"Come on," Jane says heading towards the exit. "Let's go, I just texted Frost to meet us."

Maura looks down at her phone. Three missed calls from Garrett and two texts, one from Ian saying he'd see them at dinner and one from Garrett: **where are you?**

"Maura?" Jane has been talking to her, as they head out of the building and start towards the cafeteria.

"Hmm?"

"I just...you know...I wanted to say that I have a good time hanging out with you."

Maura's head snaps up from her phone. She looks up at Jane, who is deliberately looking in the opposite direction. "You do?"

Jane nods, shifting her eyes to her feet. "Yeah."

Maura stops walking, and Jane stops too, looking nervous.

But Maura smiles widely, putting her hands on her chest. The idea that Jane would share this emotion with her, not to mention the fact that it is the first time anyone has ever said anything like that to her, makes her feel like her heart is going to explode.

"That means so much to me, Jane," she says, watching the brunette's expression slide from apprehension to pleasure.

"Yeah?" she asks, a little eagerly. She steps closer as Maura nods, "because-"

But another voice rings out, cutting her off before she can finish her sentence.

"Oh, _honestly_!" Garrett's voice is dripping with contempt. "Why is it, that everytime I can't find my girlfriend, it's because she's with you?"

Both Maura and Jane whirl towards the voice, and see Garrett Fairfield walking towards them, looking both smug and angry.

"Your...what?" Jane asks.

Maura shakes her head, feeling unaccountably nervous. "We're not officially-" She begins, unsure why she feels the need to explain herself to Jane.

"Maura, I've been calling and calling. Where have you been?"

He reaches out for her, and without thinking, she shies away from him. Jane's shoulders tense. "We were practicing for the fall showcase," she says, watching in confusion as Garrett colors.

"What?" He asks, clearly disbelieving.

"We were practicing for the fall showcase," Maura repeats, as if this is going to make things clearer. "Jane is so helpful, Garrett, especially in helping me work on my facial expressions."

Out of the corner of her eye, Maura see Jane look away, maybe hiding a laugh, but Garrett looks more furious by the moment.

"Garrett-" Maura is about to ask him what's wrong, but two other voices call out, and she is momentarily diverted.

"Hey, Jane!"

"Maur!"

It's Ian and Barry, walking towards them in the opposite direction, both waving. Maura's feeling of unease increases tenfold when she sees the way Frost glares at Garrett.

"What do you want, scumbag?"

Garrett narrows his eyes, "I was just telling your friend here to stay the hell away from my girlfriend."

"I'm not-" Maura tries to say, but Jane interrupts her, looking sour.

"Look, Fairfield," Jane growls, "it's a free fucking country. I can hang out with anyone I please."

Garrett scoffs, "Save the tough ass act, Rizzoli, and don't pretend for a second that you weren't making a move on _my _girlfriend!"

"Woah," Ian says, holding out his hands, "maybe we should all just-"

"You're talking about her like she's your property, Garrett," Jane says, coloring even more. "Last time I checked though, having all the money in the world still didn't entitle you to _own_ people!"

Ian drops his hands, looking shocked, and Frost's mouth forms a perfect 'o' of surprise.  
Garrett, however, smiles the nastiest, most sinister looking smile that Maura has ever seen.

"Last time _I _checked, it was more than enough to own your entire family," he says quietly, and Maura sees Jane go pale.

Frost nearly explodes. He lunges at Garrett, and Ian just barely manages to grab him around the shoulders, keeping him from striking the older boy.

"You fucking bastard!" He yells. "You fucking dirty, disgusting-"

Garrett doesn't spare him a look. His eyes stay locked on Jane. "Why don't you go back to your hovel you nasty fucking faggot and stop preying on my girlfriend!" Garrett hurls the words at Jane like they are knives, and they might as well be, for all the damage they do.

Jane stumbles backwards a little, going pale, but Frost leaps forward, his usually friendly face twisted in rage.

"I'll murder you! E, let me go! Garrett, you're a dead man! You fucking-"

Maura feels overwhelmed and out of breath. Everything is too loud and moving too quickly. There is too much information swirling around for her to make sense of any of it.

"You told me she was a criminal," Maura says loudly, and Frost falls silent so that he can hear her. "You said her whole family was made of criminals." She looks at Garrett with wide, accusing eyes. "You said you didn't really know her." Maura doesn't know why she's chosen this moment to reveal this information, but one thing is very clear to her: Garrett definitely _knows _Jane.

Garrett shoots Maura a look of deep contempt. "I never said that-" he begins but Frost lunges at him again, and Ian has to redouble his hold on the smaller boy's shoulders.

"You fucking asshole, I'm going to _kill_ you!" He shouts as Garrett looks back at him calmly.

"That's the biggest lie in all of history. It's your father that's the criminal. It's because of him that all that shit happened to Jane, it's because of _you _that she missed all that school and has to redo her last semester of Sophomore year. It's you and your jackass father's fault! And you want to come off like _Jane _is the lowlife in all of this? Just because she doesn't have a lot of money? You…you…" But this new level of indignation seems to render Frost temporarily speechless, and for a moment, there is silence.

Maura stares from Garrett to Barry, trying to make sense of all that is going on. She looks around for Jane, to see what she thinks of all of this, and finds that the pianist has disappeared. When Maura looks around, she can see Jane's back, just visible, heading up the stairs of their dorm.

Maura moves in that direction, thinking of nothing but getting to Jane, but Garrett grabs her around the upper arm, holding her back.

Maura's cry, more out of shock than pain, is drowned out by Ian and Frost's roar of fury.

"LET HER GO!" They shout together, and Garrett drops her arm quickly.

"Maura," he hisses. "Maura, we can talk about this. Don't be ridiculous."

"You hurt me," she says, rubbing her upper arm, and her overwhelming feeling is shock, although anger is catching up very quickly. "Did you hurt Jane?" The idea dawns on her as she says it, and she is struck with such a ferocious pang of fury and fear that she feels herself stagger. "Is that why she hates you? Did you-"

"I wouldn't touch that garbage with a ten foot pole, and if you cared anything for your class or your dignity, you wouldn't either."

Frost squawks in indignation, and moves like he's going to run at Garrett again, but Ian beats him to it. He sets himself firmly between Maura and the senior, blocking him from from view.

"Okay," he says, his voice deep and authoritative. "It's time for you to go."

Garrett pulls himself up to his full height, but even that is almost three full inches shorter than Ian.

"Maura and I were talking," Garrett says, but he makes no move to get around Ian's hulking form. Ian looks over his shoulder at Maura, who shakes her head. Ian smiles wrily.

"I think you're done," he says to Garrett.

Garrett looks for a moment like he's going to argue. She knows that neither his social standing or his natural talent have given him a lot of practice with being told no, but after a moment, he turns on his heel and strides from the room, and after a moment Ian follows after him.

"Gonna make sure our buddy gets home safe," he winks at Frost, who nods with his eyes on Maura.

As Ian heads away, Barry looks at the dancer, his chest still heaving.

"Are you okay?"

Maura nods. "Where's Jane?" Now that the threat Garrett had posed has vanished, Maura's mind is back on what matters. "What did you mean when you said that Garrett put her through...through shit? Frost?"

Barry looks a little bit guilty, but gestures that Maura should follow him. "Let's not do this on the sidewalk in the middle of campus, Maura, okay?" He asks, and when she nods, he starts walking back towards their dorm.

"Is Jane alright?" Maura is unable to keep herself from asking.

Frost sighs. "She's alright. We…" he hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek. "We need to give her some time."

"What happened, Frost?" She asks again, but the drama major doesn't answer. "Barry-"

"Maur...just...not here, okay?" his tone rings with enough finality that Maura does not feel she can argue, and she follows him back to the dorm without asking any more questions.

But as soon as they get into his dorm room, she asks him again, swallowing her unease at being in a _boy's _bedroom, and watching as Frost plops down tiredly on his bed.

"Tell me what happened to her," Maura says quietly.

Frost shifts nervously, like he'd hoped the walk here would be sufficient time for her to forget the events of the past hour.

"Maur," he looks apologetic. "I'd love to. You _know_ I'd love to…but, I mean, if she found out that I told you…I mean, given the way she feels about you, I don't think she'd ever forgive-"

"Excuse me," Maura says, wrinkling her nose, "sorry, but…what do you mean 'the way she feels about me?'" She looks up at Frost in time to see guilt wash over his face. "Frost?"

He rubs the back of his neck, looking resigned. "Seriously, Maura," he says, sounding a little sad. "You can't tell? You haven't figured it out?"

Maura blinks. "Figured what out?"

Frost sighs heavily, "Jane likes you. A lot," he says, and then, when Maura continues to look blank, he rolls his eyes, leaning forward and lowering his voice, even though they are alone in the dance studio. "She's _attracted _to you, Maura."

For ten seconds, Maura has absolutely no idea what he is talking about. "But she's a girl," she says stupidly, staring at Frost.

The other boy gapes at her, too flabbergasted to respond right away, and in that moment, Maura's brain springs back to life.

"No!" She says quickly, just as Frost begins to sputter. "No! No, that's not what I meant…I mean…I didn't understand right away. I…she…" The full effect of this revelation is just beginning to sink in. Maura sits down hard in Frost's desk chair. "Is…is she really?"

Frost throws her an incredulous look. "Jane hates Garrett Fairfield more than almost anyone in the world…besides, maybe his scumbag father and…a couple other people. When you forgot about her to go off with him, I was pretty damn sure she'd never talk to you again, Maura. I was pretty sure we were gonna have…like…some kind of war." Barry rubs his hand over his short cropped hair. "But you smiled at her, that day, getting off the elevator…and she just, melted." He shakes his head, remembering. "I've never seen her go that way over anyone. Ever. Don't you notice the way she looks at you? The way she smiles at you?"

Maura is visited by the flash bulb freeze frame memory of Jane staring at her lips less than two hours ago, of Jane's hands around her waist.

Her stomach flips over.

Maura tries to take this in, but it refuses to percolate. Instead, she turns her thoughts to the other part of the revelation.

"Barry," she says, trying to make her voice as stern as possible. "Tell me what happened to her. Why does she hate Garrett so much? Did he…do something to her?"

Maura remembers vaguely Bette's warning about older boys.

Frost takes a deep breath. "I can't, Maur," he says sadly. "If I didn't think she would be expelled, I'd tell you and take the beating…honest."

She sighs and he leans closer to her, lowering his voice.

"But Fairfield's a bad guy, Maur, the whole family is. And I'm not just saying that because my best friend's in love with you. If you don't like girls, you don't like girls…" He pauses, and when Maura doesn't comment one way or the other, he continues, apparently taking her silence as confirmation. "But Garrett Fairfield is a pompous sleaze ball, and he's dangerous as hell. Can't you just…pick someone else?"

…

Maura holds off going to Jane's room until she physically cannot stand it any longer. When she arrives at the door to Jane's room, she finds that it is already a little ajar, as if the brunette was in too much of a hurry to make sure it was latched.

Or as if she slammed it so hard that it bounced back off the frame.

Maura knocks tentatively. "Jane?"

There is no answer, but a quiet shuffling tells the dancer that Jane is inside. She knocks again, and then pushes the door inwards, stepping into the room. Jane is kneeling at the end of her bed, back to the door. The room looks like a hurricane tore through it. Clothes and books and CDs lie scattered everywhere. Maura picks her way carefully across the room until she is level with the figure kneeling in the wreckage.

"Jane?" There's no answer. "I-I'm so sorry," she's not sure what all she's apologizing for. Garretts insensitivity, her hesitation in following...her obliviousness to Jane's feelings.

She lowers herself down next to Jane."Barry told me," she says quietly.

Jane doesn't raise her head. "Everything?"

Maura shakes her head before realizing that Jane can't see her. "No," she says, and then when she sees Jane's shoulders tighten she rushes on. "No, not everything, just that you…Just that you're-"

"A dyke," Jane says roughly.

Maura reaches out and grabs Jane's hand. "No!" she says vehemently, and Jane's head snaps around to look at her. "Don't you ever call yourself that again. Hear me?" Maura blinks against tears of anger. "You're not…that word," she says, squeezing Jane's hand.

"You're not."

Jane looks at her and then tugs her hand out of Maura's, rubbing at her palm as though Maura has injured her. The gesture makes the blonde look down at Jane's hands, and gasp.

In the center of each hand there is a scar, slightly circular and raised against her tan skin. Two scars that Maura has never noticed until just now, and how…

"What happened to your hands?" Maura's voice shakes. She wishes it wouldn't.

Jane's shoulders sag a little. "Forget it, Maura," she says. "It was a long time ago."

"Did _Garrett _do that to your hands? Is that why you hate him? Jane-" Maura goes to say more, but the pianist shakes her head, and what Maura can see of her face looks fierce and resolute. She struggles to her feet and moves to her desk, reaching inside of it for a tiny bottle of some tan liquid and a little cotton swab. It takes Maura a moment for her to put two and two together.

"You cover them," she says without thinking, and Jane glances at her.

"Beats the questions," she says gruffly, and then, "Look, Maur...I'm not really sure why you're here."

Maura isn't sure either, but she starts to speak anyway, without a plan. "Barry told me that you were attracted to me. That you wouldn't normally just give anyone a second chance if they stood you up the way I did...and...I just thought of what it must have been like for you, waiting there for me, feeling how you felt, and-"

"Stop," Jane says, and her lips have gone tight and thin and very white. "I don't need a blow by blow of the last month of my feelings." But she looks up at Maura and her face softens when she sees the tears in her eyes. She sighs heavily.

"It's okay," she says. "It's okay."

Maura does not know a lot of things when it comes to Jane, but she knows that this is a lie.

"I just…I..." Maura doesn't know what to say. She is completely out of her depth here. The scope of her imagination when she'd day dreamed about college had allowed her to hope tentatively for friends and nothing more. It had never even occurred to her to wonder about dating, and it had certainly never entered her mind that she might meet someone…like Jane.

"I…" she tries again. "I care about you…a lot, Jane."

Jane makes a sound that could be an attempt at a laugh, though it sounds far too wet and too pained.

She turns away, and one hand disappears behind the curtain of hair, and Maura hears Jane sniff.

"Oh," Maura says, her heart breaking just a little. "Don't cry, Jane. Please don't cry."

"I'm not," Jane snaps, though she sniffs again. "Look, Maura, I understand, okay? Can you just…leave me alone for a little bit?"

She sounds tired, defeated.

Maura does not want to go.

"Jane," Maura reaches for her hand. "Please don't be mad at-"

But Jane pulls away, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She looks exhausted, and the smile she forces for Maura's sake looks physically painful. "I'm not mad at you," she says in a tone that seems to drip anger. Jane hears it, and when she speaks again her voice is softer, more sincere. "I'm not mad at you, Maura," she repeats. "I'm…I'm mad at myself. I'm kind of fucking embarrassed…but I'm not mad."

Maura holds out her hands. "I'm so sor-" she tries, but Jane shakes her head.

"Don't apologize, okay? It sort of makes it worse."

"How-"

"I don't know," Jane cuts her off. "It just does, okay?"

Maura nods slowly. "Okay."

They stand there for a minute longer, Maura trying to think of something comforting to say that doesn't involve an apology. This girl is the reason that she landed a premier role in the upcoming fall performance. This girl is the reason she doesn't spend her days alone with her iPad.

This girl…

"Maura?"

The dancer looks up eagerly. "Yes?"

"I-I'm really sorry, but…I really…I need you to go."

"Oh!" Maura says, nodding and trying to smile even though she feels like weeping. "Of course, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. Of course."

Jane follows her to the door of her room and once over the threshold, Maura turns to look at her again. She looks almost normal, a little red around the eyes and nose.

"Will…" she feels almost idiotic asking. "Will I see you again? I mean…can I still eat with your friends and stuff?"

Jane looks at her hard, face unreadable. "Maura," she says after a moment. "They are your friends too. I would never tell any of you what you can and cannot do."

It is a simple statement, but it still hits Maura full in the chest.

Jane almost smiles. "See ya later," she says softly, and she pushes the door shut with a soft thunk.

Maura stands there, looking at the solid door, trying to make sense of the last 12 hours of her life. She tries to put a name on the hollowed out sensation in her chest. Why is she so upset? Jane didn't say they'd never see each other again. She didn't even say that Maura couldn't hang out with Frost, in fact, she'd seemed rather put off my Maura's assumption that she would have to be the one to disengage from the group.

Maura puts her hand against Jane's door, and then her forehead, trying to steady herself.

_You care for Jane a lot. You're not attracted to her. You did the right thing._

_You did the right thing._

_That ache in the back of your throat will go away._

Maura stands up straight, and is about to walk away when the sound of a piano comes from behind Jane's door. It's the keyboard again, and the song is one that Maura recognizes. Jane has played her dozens of songs and made her dozens of playlists, and yet, this song seems to sneak into all of them.

Maura closes her eyes, listening, as Jane leaves the chorus and heads into the second verse, and she finds herself mouthing the words along with the brunette.

_And high up above or down below. When you're too in love to let it go_

_But if you never try, you'll never know_

_Just what you're worth_

_Lights will guide you home._

_And ignite your bones._

_And I will fix you._

"But listen to the way the notes sort of…trickle down," Jane had said last week. They'd been lying together on one of the couches in the library, head to head, Maura's iPad on Jane's chest, both of them wearing ear phones. "When you play it, that 'guiiiide you home' part? It's like your hands don't have a choice. Like they have to play each note falling after the other, like you're really being guided home." She'd paused, and Maura had nodded to show she was still listening, enthralled.

"It's that run that makes people press 'purchase', and then repeat, repeat, repeat. They can't help it. It's brain chemistry."

Maura had smiled, but held her tongue about how that seemed improbable.

What a fool she had been.

_I promise you I will learn from my mistakes._

_Tears stream, down your face_

_And I…_

_Lights will guide you home._

_And ignite your bones._

_And I will try…_

Jane's hand finish the chords without her voice.

Maura has never felt any loss more acutely.


	7. Chapter 7

Maura doesn't speak to Jane for two full weeks. It seems that wherever the dancer is, the brunette makes it a point not to be, and the one time that Maura manages to arrive at breakfast in time to see Jane, the pianist is gone before Maura even has a chance to get through the breakfast line.

"I feel bad," Maura says, picking up her toast. "She was here first."

Frost shrugs, as Susie looks a little sympathetic. "She's just proud," he says, stuffing homefries into his mouth. "She's not avoiding you because she hates you. She's just...embarrassed." He'd munched thoughtfully for a moment. "Don't tell her I said that."

Ian looks carefully at Maura over his cup of coffee. "You're really upset about it, aren't you."

Maura nods glumly, and Ian takes a drink without looking away.

"She's been in a pissy mood anyway," Susie chimes in, looking up from her phone.

"Pahnentwick," Frost says with his mouth full.

Ian laughs. "Excuse me, grossness? Please rehinge your jaw before trying to speak."

Frost throws a homefry at him. "Parent week," he says after a massive swallow. "She hates it."

Maura nods, but doesn't voice her own dislike of parent week. "Why?" she asks instead.

Frost looks at her, brow creased. "Her family never comes," he says, and when Maura opens her mouth to ask why, Ian shakes his head discreetly, and she lets the matter drop.

.

But Constance Isles comes to parent week.

No one is more surprised than Maura, who calls her mother the Friday before the event to share the good news about her featured role in the showcase.

"Well, I'm coming to see you, certainly," Constance says matter of factly.

Maura is momentarily speechless. "Y-you are?"

There is a pause on the other end of the line as well. "Of course I am, Maura. It's a huge honor to be featured so early in your college career."

Maura can think of nothing else to say but, "I know."

"So when is this showcase. Am I required to buy tickets? What is the dress code?"

Maura blinks at her comforter, "Uh-"

"Don't say uh, darling, you sound like you're illiterate."

"You don't have to dress up, and I can reserve a ticket for you. It's Saturday night."

"I'd like that very much. And I'll come in Friday, we'll get an early dinner, and then I'll see you the next day for your showcase. How does that sound."

It sounds out of character, is what Maura wants to say, but instead she nods, finding her voice. "It sounds lovely, Mother. I'll see you soon."

"You will darling. I look forward to it."

And that is how they end up at Sparks Steakhouse, on a Friday night, discussing Maura's first term at Juilliard.

"And then," Maura says, sipping her drink, "I moved up to Sophomore Basics and Tech. I think it's working out alright."

Constance nods, "I'm so pleased," she says, even though a little frown plays over her features. "And those roommates of yours?" She asks after a moment. "Have they carried on hiding your belongings."

Maura is a little caught off guard that her mother has remembered this detail of her life, but she smiles, shaking her head.

"Bette and I have...well, I guess we're getting on a little better now," she says, and her mother smiles back. Maura allows herself to feel cautiously hopeful. "And George hasn't really said two words to me since Garrett Fairfield dropped me off at my dorm room a few weeks ago."

She looks up at her mother, and the smile drops off her face. Constance looks like she's seen a ghost.

"Who?"

"He's just this boy...he's a senior. We went on a couple, oh I don't know if you could call them dates. But-"

"No," Constance says, loudly enough that people at the next table look over at her. She colors, but does not apologize. "Maura," she says quickly, angrily, "I forbid you to have any type of relationship with that boy."

"W-what?" Maura stutters. The command is so out of the blue, so reminiscent of their previous relationship, that Maura cannot help but bristle a little. "I am an adult," she says firmly. "You can't tell me what to-"

"I certainly can tell you what to do," Constance shoots back immediately, "Especially when it comes to your safety. I will not have you in harm's way," she clasps her hands on the table, looking uncomfortable. "Your father and I travel so often...if something were to happen and we we couldn't get back right away..."

Maura is silent. She is confused and a little bit touched at her mother's latest statement. But a bigger part of her is coming awake. This mention of Garrett and his dubious character have sparked something inside of her.

Jane.

"What happened?" She asks, and her mother takes another drink shaking her head.  
"It's not dinner talk," she says quietly, her composure back. "It's not very nice talk for any situation."

"Why should I be afraid of him?" Maura pushes, "Should I call public safety if I see him? What are we talking about, mother?"

"For goodness sake, Maura," Constance says. "Let's not get out of hand."

"You seemed a bit out of hand a moment ago," Maura shoots back. "Why? What is it?"

Constance sighs. "The Fairfields are not," Constance pauses, clearly trying to find a polite way to tear the family down. "Not everyone in that family has a firm grip on...reality."

Maura feels her heart rate increase. "What do you mean?" She asks, aware that she sounds out of breath. "What does that mean?"

Constance sighs. "Really, Maura," she says sounding a little put out, "it's not any of our business."

"Garrett is interested in me," Maura says, and this is not completely a lie. "He's pursuing me, Mother, and he has been clandestine, at best, about his past." Maura can hear herself speaking about Garrett, but all she can think is, _Jane. Jane. _"Don't I deserve to know? To make my decision about him based on facts, rather than recommendations and warnings?"

Constance looks over her wine glass at her daughter, her face a mixture of surprise and reluctance, and maybe a little pride. She nods once. "Yes," she says, "I suppose you do. I suppose that is only fair."

Maura feels herself relax a little bit. "Thank you," she says quietly.

Constance doesn't respond for a moment, and Maura watches her make a distracted movement with her hand, like she's aerating a glass of wine.

"You know," she says thoughtfully, "I think college has been good for you. Your father was worried you were too fragile, too...solitary. But I think you are coming into your own. It is...refreshing to see."

Maura doesn't say anything, just waits while Constance takes another sip of wine.

"Malcolm Fairfield, Garrett's father, was golf partners with your father when you were just a child. He was your father's lawyer until you were in high school. He and his wife Felicia had two children, Garrett who is older than you, and Grace, who was a bit closer to you in age. Maybe a year or two older."

Maura does not miss the tenses. "Was?" She asks, and Constance holds a sigh in her chest for a moment.

"Yes," she says, "was."

"What happened to her?"

Constance looks hard at her daughter, clearly trying to make a decision, and Maura is about to prompt her when she speaks again, quickly and quietly.  
"She died. She was not allowed to fully...express herself, and...she died."

This is an odd way to describe someone's death. Maura lets out an exasperated breath of air. "Mother-" she begins, but Constance cuts her off.

"I do not trade in rumors, Maura," she says a little bitterly, "but the prevailing word is that Grace Fairfield was...attracted to women."

Maura feels like she's been turned upside down very quickly.

"What?"

Constance nods, "And when her family found out...they tried everything they could to...change her."

Sense.

Everything is beginning to make sense.

"She...killed herself." Maura means to say it as a question, but she is unable to make the words shift upwards at the end of her sentence. She feels cold all over. She feels like she is just beginning to understand.

Constance nods. "It was rather horrible. Malcolm and Felicia were devastated. And by all accounts Garrett was inconsolable. They barely got him off to Juilliard that fall. His sophomore year, I believe."

Maura nods, "I don't see what this has to do with Garrett being dangerous," she says leaning forward. "What does this have to do with me?"

Constance takes a bite of her salad. "Garrett...became a different person. Felicia says he fell in with the wrong people.. He blamed Grace's…" she hesitates, "girlfriend for his sister's death. He became...obsessed, with revenge."

Jane.

Maura has to consciously work on breathing.

_Jane._

"And...partway through the school year, he and another boy...they kidnapped the girl and...well," Constance looks away from her daughter. "Malcolm kept it out of the papers of course, but your father says that what they did to that girl was quite...unpleasant."

Anger.

_Fury_, fiery and molten like lava eclipses any type of pity that Maura had been feeling for the Fairfields.

"Garrett hurt that girl?" she can barely make herself say the words. She can't stop seeing Jane's face, the slender curve of her neck. Her scar. "Just because she'd been Grace's girlfriend?"

Constance pinches the bridge of her nose, looking pained. "From what your father told me," she says quietly, "the girl nearly died. They kept her...in a summer home of the Fairfields. She escaped after three days."

Maura knows who that girl is. She finds it hard to breathe, even when focusing all her energy on it.

"Why isn't he in prison?" She spreads her words out slowly, trying to keep from being sick.

"The other boy did go," Constance says, wrinkling her forehead, trying to remember. "He was sentenced…what was his name...God, It was a while ago. I can't remember."

Maura doesn't care. She leans forward trying to get her mother's attention. "Mother!"

Constance's head snaps up at her tone.

"Why didn't Garrett go to prison?"

Constance sighs. "She didn't testify," she says, lowering her voice. "Don't ask me why. I don't know. Your father is convinced that the Fairfields paid off the family," Constance shakes her head, "it wouldn't surprise me. Malcolm did everything he could to keep Grace's name out of the papers when she died...I'm sure they would have done almost anything to keep their son from suffering a fate they didn't think he deserved."

Maura feels sick, physically sick. She looks down at her dinner and her stomach heaves. "Didn't deserve," she says weakly. "He tortured J-" she catches herself quickly, glancing at her mother to see if she's noticed. "He tortured a girl...nearly to death. How does he not deserve to-"

"Maura," Constance cuts her daughter off, looking suddenly stern. "Listen to me." She waits until Maura meets her eyes.

"What the Fairfields did was reprehensible. They used their position and power inappropriately, They cheated the law.." She pauses to make sure that Maura is still listening. "But they got away with it," she says slowly. "Do not, for one moment, believe that anyone in that family has learned a lesson, or would bat an eye at repeating history, if the problem should arise again."

The cold is creeping back into the pit of Maura's stomach, but this time it is for an entirely different reason.

"You're saying-"

"I'm saying stay away from him. Stay away from his friends," she lowers her chin a little, and her blue eyes gleam, even in the dim light of the restaurant. "Stay away from his enemies."

…

She does not heed her mother. When the car drops her off in front of the student center, she climbs out on stiff legs and barely hears her mother's good-bye.

"I'll see you tomorrow for your performance," She calls, and Maura nods absently, trying to decide what to do.

She enters the student center more out of a desire to escape the wintry wind than anything, and then she stands in the middle of the cavernous building, trying to collect her thoughts.

That girl that Garrett and his friend tortured was Jane. The scar of Jane's neck, the ones on her hands...Maura feels her stomach heave unpleasantly.

Garrett, the boy who held doors for her and laughed at all her jokes, and was such a gentleman. She pictures his furious, twisted face from the night that he'd found her with Jane.

_She's a predator, Maura!_

But she wasn't, she _isn't_, Maura thinks. She was just a girl who lost the person she loved. And then was punished for that.

For a moment, fury unlike any she has ever experienced before engulfs Maura, eating away at her like a flame on paper, and she pulls up Garrett's name on her phone and has almost pressed send before she comes to her senses.

What would she do? Yell at him? That would only infuriate him, possibly cause him to lash out...at Jane.

Maura puts her phone back into her clutch and has just decided that she should go back to her dorm room, when she spots Frost across the room, turning away from his mailbox, deep in conversation with a girl she doesn't recognize.

Suddenly, Maura is gripped with a new desire. She makes her way towards Frost, calling out when she gets close enough, and all the questions she hadn't been able to ask her mother bubble in the back of her throat, vying for first place.

"Hey, Maur," Frost says easily when he sees her. "This is my friend Ri-"

"Why didn't Jane testify against Garrett," she blurts out, cutting him off. "Did they pay her off? Is that why he didn't go to jail? They had to drop the charges?"

Frost looks so surprised that he might actually pass out, and the girl he's with raises her eyebrows, confused.

"Uh…" Frost struggles to regain the power of speech. Maura can't wait that long.

"Why weren't you more specific when you told me not to hang out with him?" she persists, "You could have said more without saying everything!"

Frost turns to the girl, "Can you...give us a second?" he asks, and the girl nods, throwing Maura a curious glance before heading off in the direction of the school store.

"Maura," Frost hisses, as soon as she's out of earshot, "What the hell are you doing? How did you even,"

"What happened to her hands? Was that Garrett that did that? What was his friend's name? Why didn't she testify against him, Barry."

Frost looks frantic and he takes Maura's arm a little roughly, looking around. "Okay, you need to shut up right now," he says urgently. "You do not have any idea what you are talking about, _yelling_ about really, and if Jane shows up and hears you-"

"Barry, this is serious!" Maura says, "Garrett is a criminal, and he's going around telling people that Jane is the bad guy, when what he did is-"

"Back off," Frost interrupts quietly, his voice dangerous. "You don't know what you're doing. You don't really know what you're saying."

"My mother said she almost died, Barry...is that true? Did Garrett-"

"Maura," He cuts her off, nearly yelling. "Stop talking about this. Stop asking me about this. I don't know how you found out, but now that you know, you need to keep it to yourself."

"I have to apologize to her."

"Are you insane?" He looks at her with wide eyes, like he really believes that she might be. "You need to pretend you never found out. You need to bury any information you've gathered as deep down in your psyche as it will possibly go, and never bring it up again."

"Why didn't she testify?" Maura cannot help herself.

Frost's eyes narrow slightly. "Maura," he says, trying to keep his voice under control. "Let it. Go. Please. I'm begging you."

She can't. "Did they pay her? My father knew Garrett's father and he thinks that the Fairfields gave Jane money, but that doesn't make sense to me, Frost, because Jane isn't the type of person who would-"

"You don't know what type of person Jane is," Frost cuts her off, sounding frustrated, "not when it comes to this. I'm begging you to just drop it, please. You don't-"

"Just tell me why she didn't testify," Maura presses. "Did the Fairfields pay her off? I know she doesn't have a lot of money...but I just can't see her deciding not to do the right thing because of...a monetary incentive.. What was it? Why didn't she…" But Maura looks up at Frost to see that he is looking over her shoulder, looking pale.

"She wasn't allowed to." The voice coming from behind her makes Maura's mouth go dry. She closes her eyes, hoping that the ground will open up and swallow her.

It does not, and Jane keeps talking, even when Frost tries to cut her off.

"Jane. I didn't tell her, I swear to God, I don't know how she-"

"She wasn't allowed to testify," Jane says again, and Maura spins slowly on the spot.

Jane looks livid. Maura opens her mouth to say something, and finds that she can't speak. When faced with those angry, intense, beautiful eyes, she cannot say one thing.

"She was going to," Jane continues, "She was going to testify and put that disgusting, arrogant bastard behind bars with his no good asshole of a friend. She was going to tell everyone who would listen how much she cared about Grace. How she wouldn't have ever done anything to hurt her, and if the Fairfields could have gotten their fucking heads out of their asses, she wouldn't have…" Jane's voice breaks, and Frost steps forward, but Jane points her finger at him, and he stops dead like she's punched him in the chest. She looks back at Maura, and she takes one shaky step towards the dancer before she speaks again.

"Imagine her surprise, when on the day she's supposed to be there...her mother and father...lock her in her room."

Maura covers her mouth with her hand. "Oh," she says, understanding coming quickly this time.

"Can you imagine how she felt when they tell her, _through the keyhole_, that it's too much money to pass up. How her little brothers can get the right kind of education, and her youngest brother can get the help he's always needed for his drug habit. _Imagine-_" Jane's voice starts to shake, and she takes another step closer, "how it felt to hear that they'd accepted. That they'd promised to...to keep you away...That it was too much money to turn down, and couldn't I find it in my heart to understand, and couldn't I find it in myself to understand how he'd felt, losing his sister like that and…" she's crying and she's changed sentences and all Maura wants to do is close the distance between them and wrap her arms around the girl in front of her.

But Frost steps forward, hands out, "Jay," he says, and he sounds on the verge of tears too. "Jane, come o-"

He reaches for her, but she steps around him, out of his reach and walks right up to Maura, her eyes wet and fierce and so, so beautiful.

"Can you imagine that?" She asks, and her voice is just above a whisper, harsh urgent. "Can you imagine your parents looking you in the eye and telling you that...telling you that your life...that what you went through...has a price? Can you imagine it, Maura?"

Maura feels a tear slip down her cheek, but doesn't move to wipe it away. She shakes her head, not breaking eye contact. "No." she whispers.

For a moment, it looks like Jane is going to apologize to her, say she's sorry for yelling, or for scaring the dancer. For a moment her face goes open and scared and sorry, and Maura wonders if this is what Frost has been talking about. If this is the the look he means.

But the the brunette's face goes hard and impassive, and she turns away from both of them and stalks off, ignoring Frost as he calls her to come back.

Maura wraps her arms around herself, hugging. Barry turns back to her, looking enraged.

"Happy?" he hisses, "Are you happy now?"

Maura doesn't think she's ever felt more miserable.

…...

She takes a cab downtown. It's the first time she's ever truly traveled anywhere on her own, without her parents or a nanny or her driver. She uses her phone and looks up a place and then she takes a cab. The feeling of accomplishment bolsters her confidence enough that she walks right up to the first salesman she sees, a tall reedy looking man, with a precisely trimmed goatee.

"I need the best one," she says, gesturing around. "I need the best one that you have. It needs to be portable, and it needs to make the most amazing sound possible. I don't care what it costs."

The man smiles at her, an indulgent, condescending smile. "The top of the line models can run you over fifteen," he says gently. "You're probably looking for something more between the two hundred to four hundred range? That will still get you a decent sound qua-"

But Maura is running on the adrenaline of her first solo trip into the city, and she is plagued by the image of Jane, standing in front of her, crying...and she is her mother's daughter, through and through.

"Did you not understand me?" She reaches into her clutch and pulls out her credit card. It is gold or platinum or something of the sort, given to her by her father as a going away present, and she sees the man's eyes widen in shock.

"I want the best keyboard that you have to offer. The person who's going to play it is the most talented musician in the city and probably in the nation, and if you think I'm going to bring her back a dinky little toy piano so she can plunk out Row Row Row Your Boat, then you are sorely mistaken."

The associate has gone pale, and he nods frantically, gesturing that she should follow him towards the back of the store.

"Of course, ma'am," he says, sounding strained, sounding panicked. Maua feels power like a weapon that she can wield at her leisure. "Of course, Miss…"

"Isles," she supplies, and he nods, clearly trying to think if he's ever heard the name before.

"I apologize for my assumption. Let me show you our collection of higher end instruments. You won't be disappointed. Your friend will play like Mozart."

Maura doesn't answer, just follows the man down to aisle towards the back of the shop.

.

She's out of breath when she exits the elevator on the seventeenth floor, but she's also flushed with excitement and the overwhelming feeling of victory. The man in the piano shop had helped her pick out one of the most beautiful Keyboards she'd ever seen in her life. He'd explained all the features to her, from the weighted keys that made it more realistic to the ability to record and spit back over fifty six measure phrases.

"Does she write music, your friend?" He'd asked.

"I imagine so," Maura responded, "she's brilliant."

He'd nodded, warming up to her (or at least to her money) more and more by the second. "With this, everyone will see it," he'd said.

Now, Maura leans it up against the wall, and knocks on on Jane's door, resisting the urge to call out the brunette's name and push the door open.

There's a scuffling, and then a thunk, followed by a muffled swear. "Go away, Frost. I don't want to talk."

Maura knocks again without speaking, knowing that if Jane doesn't want to open the door to Frost, she's not going to want to open it up for Maura.

Jane swears again, and there's more movement, and then the door swings inward.

"Frost! What can't you get through your thick, dramatic head? I don't want to-" she stops abruptly, staring down at Maura, and the dancer stares back up at her, eyes wide.

Her hair is disheveled, wild and tangled and huge, like the mane of a lion. She's wearing a loose tank top, cobalt blue, with the bright yellow words "Boston Strong," across the front, and slate grey spandex shorts.

"What are you doing here?" Jane growls, but Maura is looking at the other girl's shoulders, at the long pale scars the tick away at her flesh like hash marks.

"Oh God," Maura says, unable to tear her eyes away. She feels Jane tense.

"What are you doing here?" she asks again, and now she sounds angry and defensive, "What more could you possibly want from-"

"Are all those scars from-" She can't help herself. Jane's eyes flash and she backs away from the door, moving to slam it in Maura's face, but the dancer puts her hands out instinctively.

"No!" she cries, "no wait, Jane. I'm sorry. That's not why...please wait. I-I got something for you."

She turns away from the door and pulls the keyboard into view.

Jane freezes.

"I got this for you...It's...it's sort of like an...I'm sorry, please forgive me gift." Maura looks up into Jane's impassive face, looking for any sort of glimmer of excitement. "It's top of the line. You can do the most amazing things. I made the salesman at the store explain it all to me."

Jane reaches out slowly, and runs her hand over the edge of the keyboard closest to her. "You...got this for-"

"For you!" Maura says, nodding excitedly, "now you don't have to play on that one with the broken keys anymore. Now you can play on an instrument that completely suits your-"

"What is this for?" Jane cuts her off.

Maura blinks, taken aback, "w-what?"

"You bought this?" She's looking more closely at the keyboard, her face slipping slowly from anger to distress. "Maura, this has to have cost you over a thousand dollars."

Maura shakes her head and rolls her shoulders at the same time, trying to show that she doesn't care. "You can really practice now," she says, still a little exhilarated. "I got it so that you don't have to use the broken one anymore when you don't want to go to the practice rooms...I thought that-"

"You think this makes up for nosing into my business?" Jane's face is angry again, studiously so.

Maura frowns. "What? No. I just thought-"

"You think that...since I was bought off once before, you can just buy me off again, and I won't be mad at you anymore? I'll just say, oh look, a shiny new toy. That totally excuses you prying into my life?"

Maura feels like all the wind has been knocked out of her. "What?" her voice is shaking. She feels panicky. "No! No! That's not it at all, Jane, I just...I wanted to do something nice for you because I-"

"Ohh, let me guess," Jane says angrily, "because you felt _bad_ for me. You felt bad for poor, destitute, fucked up Jane. And here's this new shiny thing that will make her all better." She shakes her head, and her hands fly upwards, into her hair. "You can't _buy_ me!" She yells, and Maura takes a step backwards.

"No!" she cries again. "No. I don't want to buy you. I don't want to…" she can feel tears in her eyes. Angry tears at herself for not seeing how this was going to play out, and tears for another reason. One she can't put her finger on.

"I...I did it because...because you're so special!" she cries, and Jane falls silent, looking at her. "I just...you helped me get featured in my first performance in college. You practiced and practiced with me and I repaid you by betraying your trust...which I probably never had in the first place." She's babbling. She can hear herself going on and on, but she can't stop it.

"I just...I did it because I _like_ you, Jane. Because I'm so sorry all those things happened to you, and if I could rip Garrett Fairfield apart with my own hands I would, but I can't so I had to do something else. I got it for you because I don't...because the way you play...the way you _are_ makes me feel like…" she holds out her hands, "It makes me feel…when I'm around you I just...I'm so much _better._ And I know that that sounds stupid, and I know I already hurt you and embarrassed you, and now I've messed another thing up, but I'm learning! Today I took a taxi by myself. Downtown to get you this keyboard. And that might not sound like an accomplishment to you but it _damn sure_ means something to m-"

But she doesn't get any farther, because Jane steps out into the hall and pulls Maura into her arms. She wraps her arm around the dancer's waist and slips the other hand into her hair and presses their lips together.

For three seconds that feel like lifetimes, Maura is caught up in the feel of Jane's hand in her hair, Jane's hand pulling her closer around the waist, Jane's soft, wonderful lips on her own.

For three seconds she is weightless and floating and luminescent and heavy and sinking and extinguished all at the same time.

For a three seconds. She is heavenly.

And then someone down the hall whistles through their teeth, and she pulls away from Jane roughly to look around.

A boy she doesn't know has his head out the door and is grinning down the hall at them. "Woo hoo!" he calls. "Get it, girl!"

Maura blinks, coming back to herself slowly, like she's just had an out of body experience. She looks up at Jane who is turning back to her, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face. The brunette starts to grin, but then she sees Maura's face and her expression is nothing but fear.

"Maura?"

Maura pulls back, and Jane's hand falls away from her waist. The jolt of loneliness happens again. Maura gasps.

Jane is beginning to look a little panicked. "Maura? I'm so-"

But Maura shakes her head, backing away. She turns away as Jane says her name again.

And she runs.


	8. Chapter 8

Maura runs. She hears Jane call her name, and then again, sounding like she might be closer, and so she speeds up, rounding the corner and slapping the elevator button.

And then, when it does not appear to be coming, she turns and pushes into the stairwell, driven by embarrassment and confusion and the overwhelming need to get. away.

Jane's face, when their eyes had met. The way her eyes had slowly slipped into concern and then flickered into fear. Maura jumps the stairs two at a time, then three, the pain in her ankles mirroring the pain of the knowledge that she caused that look.

That she is still causing it.

The ground floor is not where she meant to be. There is nowhere she really means to be, but because there are not anymore flights of stairs, and because she is not through running, she pushes out into the cold November night, and starts to run again. She is unsure of where her feet are taking her, only that they are taking her away from those eyes and those hands and those lips.

Those lips.

_Jesus._

She doesn't recognize where she is until she's pulling the wooden door of the the classroom. It's the smallest one in the building and therefore usually empty, and so it is where she and Jane would usually practice. She pulls the door open and strides in, right into the middle of the dance floor.

Go back.

Her head is commanding it. Her heart is commanding it. Her body will not act.

In the shadowed light from the window and alien glow from the exit sign above the door, Maura examines herself in the mirror that runs one entire side of the room.

Her lungs are burning. Her ankles feel a little weak, a bit bruised, but those are things that the mirror can't see.

The place where Jane's hand was in her hair and on her back, those places are changed forever, but the mirror doesn't pick that up either.

How she feels. How she is supposed to feel about what has happened, what she has let happen, what she didn't try to stop….

If the mirror knows, it isn't saying.

"She kissed you!" Maura points a finger at the little dancer in the mirror. Stupid, pathetic little girl. She is starting to cry. She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know what would make it right.

Go. Back.

She doesn't move.

"Go back!" She yells at her reflection, but the dancer in the mirror, her face ashen and tearstained, does not even flinch.

What _was _that? How could she? How could this have happened?

She paces over to the bar, wraps her fingers around it, and then releases, turning to bring both hands down hard against the smooth wood.

"How _could _she?" She asks the empty room, but that's not what she wants to say at all. She puts both hands in her hair.

"How could you?"

She has not spoken to herself this way in months. She trained herself against it the way she trained herself against movement simply for feeling's sake.

But both of those rules are out the window tonight.

"She kissed me," Maura says again, to no one. "And I ran."

She looks at herself, in the mirror. Just a dancer, when she could be so much more.

"Go back," she says quietly.

This time, the girl in the mirror listens.

...

_"What about this one?" Maura turns to the brunette who is browsing the shelf behind her. _

_Jane turns to take the little plastic holder from her hands. Her eyebrows knit. "That's Bach." _

_Maura nods, "I like Bach."_

_"Yeah," Jane says with half a smile. "Sixty percent of your music library is Bach." She hands it back and turns away. "Pick something else." _

_Maura frowns too, turning the CD case over in her hands. "But I like Bach," she says again, "and I haven't heard this arrangement yet. Not something that's all strings like-" _

_"Maur," Jane cuts her off, turning around again. "You know Bach backwards and forwards. Branch out a little, why don't you. Pick something that...that scares you a little." Jane huffs at the CD cases in front of her and moves off, around the corner and out of sight. "Get brave, tiny dancer," she calls. _

_Maura smiles, a memory coming back to her. _

_"That's sort of what Bette said," Maura says, looking down at the CD. "She said…'you've got to get some tougher skin, tiny dancer.'" She looks up to see Jane reappear around the corner, holding a jewel case in her hand. She hands it over to Maura with a chuckle._

_"It's an Elton John song," She says tapping the cover. "Hold me closer, tiny dancer," she sings, and then, abruptly, she turns away, going a little red._

_"It's a classic song. Listen to the whole album. Elton John's not half bad. I mean…no one who gave us the Lion King soundtrack can be half bad." Jane smiles, heading off down another aisle._

_Maura blinks. "That's an animated film, right?" She follows, looking up at the racks and racks of CDs. She doesn't notice that Jane has stopped dead, and so nearly runs into her._

_"Wha-"_

_"You've never seen The Lion King?" Jane sounds flabbergasted._

_Maura bites her lip. "I never saw the point. It's a Hamlet story arc, right? Personifying that storyline in a pack of Lions seems mildly interesting, but not-"_

_"That's what's wrong with your dancing," Jane cuts her off, and Maura falls silent, stung._

_"What's wrong with it?" She asks quietly, rubbing her chest as though the insult has wormed its way inside her._

_"You're analyzing while you dance. You're thinking about angles and…lines and…" she casts about, "whatever else dancers have to focus on."_

_"Feet," Maura murmurs._

_"Exactly. You never just like. Let it go and think about how what you're dancing to is going to reach other people."_

_Maura considers this. "But it's different," she says finally. "It's different from dancing to your music in an empty classroom or…in your room or wherever. It's different when someone's taught you the routine."_

_"How?"_

_Maura pauses, trying to marshal her thoughts. It's hard when Jane is looking at her like that._

_"Your choreographer has a vision," she says finally. "When they teach you…they have a clear idea of how they want you to look. How they want you to dance. When I'm on my own, I can dance it however I want. I can push a fouette until I'm nearly falling out of it. But when someone tells me what to do…"_

_Jane moves a little closer, still looking at her. "You do it," she fills in. "Without question."_

_"I…" she wants to protest, but finds that she can't. "Yes," she concedes, looking up into Jane's eyes. "I suppose I do."_

_Jane holds their gaze for one more moment, and then turns away without a word. Maura is about to follow her, but then she stops. She turns to the shelf and pulls down a CD at random, turning it over. This is one of their haunts, the music library in the center of campus, and although there are rooms and rooms of CDs and records, and even tapes and eight tracks, Maura feels like Jane always knows exactly where she is going. Always knows exactly what she's looking for. They play a game where Maura will think of a random word, and Jane will think of lyrics with that word in it, picking the melody out on her guitar or stringing notes together on the keyboard with her long fingers. The more ridiculous of a word Maura tries to come up with, the faster Jane seems to come up with a song. She is like rolodex of melodies, and Maura is enchanted. _

_"There's no version of this game that is dancing," Maura had said sadly, one grey afternoon in Jane's room._

_"I know," Jane agreed. "You're so lucky."_

_"Lucky?" Maura sat up to look at the brunette sprawled out on the floor nearby, eyes closed. "How is that lucky?" _

_Jane had cracked an eye to look at her, one brow arched, clearly checking to see if she was joking. "Because," Jane says lying back. "No one wrote it before you. The dance is whatever you want it to be." She'd smiled, shutting her eye again. "Supremely yours." _

_"Billie Holiday," she reads out now. "Strange Fruit." She looks around, but Jane is nowhere in sight. "I'll get this one today too," she calls to the empty stacks._

_"You might hate it," Jane's warm, teasing voice comes from behind her, closer than anticipated. Maura turns around, and is met by more CDs, no Jane._

_"I might love it," she says quietly to the shelves._

_There is a pause, and in her mind's eye, Maura can see Jane biting her lip to keep from smiling. "Yeah," the voice returns, and Jane is clearly smiling. "You might." _

….

"Maura. Maura?" Someone is shaking her shoulder. "Maura!"

"Jnnn," Maura opens one eye, and the blonde brown outline of Bette swims into view.

"Jesus, Maura, are you okay?"

Maura sits up, rubbing hard at her eyes, trying to pull herself fully back into consciousness

She'd fallen into her bed with her clothes on, not bothering to slide under the covers, and although her mind had been too preoccupied with the events of the evening, now she feels dirty and disheveled, dry mouthed and uncomfortable.

"Why are you shouting?" she asks, looking up into her roommates concerned face.

"Oh, I don't know," Bette says sarcastically, "My roommate who never so much as leaves a drawer partially cracked, and who goes to be every night at 10:30pm wearing a matching pajama set, fell into her bed last night after midnight, and then slept on top of her covers...in her _clothes._"  
Now that Maura has been deemed alive, it seems that Bette can resort to her usual harsh comments and sarcastic ways. "Why ever would I think something was wrong?"

Still, Maura is touched. Midnight. She barely remembers making her way back to the dorm room. "Thank you for checking on me," she says, glancing at her phone on the bedside table. The time says nine fourteen. "And for not letting me sleep the day away."

"If you die, I have to answer all these questions," Bette huffs, although her scowl seems a little put on. "And they'd probably section the room off with police tape."

"But just think," Maura says. "No more George for a roommate."

Bette's laugh is more surprise than anything. "Holy cow...did you get drugged last night or what? Was that a joke, Maura Isles?"

Maura grins weakly, and swings her legs tentatively over to the carpet, and stands up. Bette watches her with half of a smirk.

"So what did happen?" She asks as Maura makes her way over to the place by the door where her bathrobe and bath caddy sit.

"Oh…" Like the shadow of a large bird of prey, the events of last night come flooding back to her, and she has to reach out and put her hand on the wall to keep from tipping over. "Oh," she says again, aware that her voice is now the prelude to tears. "Everything bad."

There is a silence behind her and then, "Are you like...injured?"

Yes, Maura thinks. "No," she says and when she turns back to face Bette, she offers what she can of a smile. "No...I just…" What can she say that is true? What can she say that doesn't give away more than she's willing to let her room mate see.

I ruined two friendships, and maybe something else.

I've been sort of dating a criminal

There are so many things I do not know, and don't know how to find out.

Maura swallows, "Um...Garrett and I are over."

The truth, even if it is the smallest bit of it.

Bette looks mildly saddened. "Sorry, Maura," she says, and she does not sound insincere so much as disinterested.

Maura decides that's okay. "I'm uh...going to go take a shower."

Bette nods. "Later."

Maura heads for the bathroom. "Bye."

…

Maura welcomes the harsh spray of the shower. It seems to wake her up fully, and she steps directly under the showerhead, intent on washing away more than the feeling of sleeping in her street clothes.

"She kissed me," she says to herself, just to see how it feels. The panic of the night before is gone, and in it's place there are several emotions all tumbling over each other, demanding her attention. She closes her eyes, and in her mind's eye she can see Jane's face the moment she'd pulled away, before she'd realized that Maura was going to run.

She'd looked...happy. Excited and comfortable and...relieved. Why had she looked relieved?

"She kissed me," Maura whispers again, and this time she touches her fingers to her lips, like she could trace the memory of the event. It's been almost 24 hours, and the physical feeling is fading rapidly. She wishes she could reach out and grab it before it disappears, keep it safe in her pocket until she's ready to pull it out and reexamine it.

It had been...It was...Maura searches for the right word. It had been surprising, that was a given. And scary, when that boy had whistled. But what about in between those two feelings? What about in between the initial shock of being in Jane's arms and the moment when she'd realized that other people could see them. What had she felt in that moment?

She is jolted from her reverie by the sound of people entering the bathroom, their voices loud and excited.

"My mom and dad are so excited, I think they bought new cameras just for the occasion. I told them, I'm just in the chorus but they don't care. I'm here, I'm in the showcase, I haven't been kicked out because I'm tone deaf...they couldn't be happier."

"Are your parents here, George?" Maura hears another voice chime in, and she pulls in a deep breath and holds it, even though rationally, she knows there's no need. There is a pause as a couple showers hiss to life, and then George's voice, more subdued than Maura has heard in the past.

"My dad's here. I don't think he has time to come." And then, some of the old bravado returning. "But if he does come, no doubt he'll want to talk to my teachers afterwards about why I wasn't featured.

"I know," Maura hears a girl say. "It's totally unfair."

.

For the first time since meeting her little group of friends, Maura skips going to the cafeteria altogether. Insteads she heads to the music library, the place from her dream, the place where she and Jane spent hours upon hours, talking and listening and talking some more. She doesn't know what draws her to return to the places where she spent time with Jane, but she goes anyway, glancing around nervously, praying she doesn't run into anyone she knows.

But at ten thirty in the morning on a Saturday, the library is silent and eerie looking. Maura pulls off her scarf, and then her coat, draping them over one of the chairs in the front of the hall before wandering back into the stacks and stacks of CDs.

This was a mistake.

Every aisle seems to echo the brunette. Maura pulls down CD after CD, until she knows she's carrying more than her student card will allow her to check out.

Will Beth Orton tell her how to name her emotions? Stevie Wonder? The Soweto Gospel Choir? Steven Sondheim?

She rounds the corner, arms full, engrossed in the back of the album cover and nearly walks into a girl coming around the other way.

"Oh, I'm really sorry I didn't-" but when Maura looks up, to look the other girl in the eye, she realizes that's it's Jane.

She is face to face with Jane.

"Maura," Janes voice is an octave deeper, a shade raspier. Her eyes are red rimmed, even if they are dry.

Maura feels her stomach drop unpleasantly. "Oh," she says, her go to phrase now a days. "Oh, Jane."

_Jane_. Of course she is here. This is _her_ library. This is _her _major. And what the hell is Maura doing anyway.

But the brunette is shaking her head. Shaking her head and turning away and saying, "No...nope. I can't do this. I'm not doing this."

She walks away from Maura and out into the entrance hall, where Frost is waiting, still bundled up against the elements, holding her coat and looking board.

"Did you find-" he begins, but then he sees Maura, trailing behind Jane, trying to think of something to say, and his face get's dark and furious.

"What the hell are you doing here?" His tone stops her dead in her tracks, but Jane grabs her coat and pulls at Frosts arm.

"Leave her," she says curtly, "Just...leave her. Let's go."

Frost looks balefully at Maura for a second and then follows after Jane as she pushes out into the cold morning air.

Maura waits one hearbeat, then two, and then, arms still full of CDs, coat and scarf forgotten, she runs after them, out into the inner campus.

"Frost!" She calls as they head away from her, down the street. "Wait," she calls again, but the cold is like a hand pushing in on her chest. She can't make any noise above polite conversation level.

Jane is already about ten feet in front of Barry, but he stops and looks back at her, and she feels her throat constrict. He looks like he's on the verge of tears.

"I told you to let it lie, and you couldn't," Frost says angrily. "I _told _you she liked you. I told you to leave it alone. And you didn't."

Maura tries to keep the tears at bay by telling herself that they will freeze if they leak out now.

"You did," she says miserably, feeling her teeth start to chatter. "I know."

"Your actions have consequences," he says fiercely. "The things you do affect other people, Maura," He waits for her to answer, but she can't think of anything to say. He is angry with her. She is angry because of her actions. It is an entirely new feeling.

"When you bought that keyboard for her, who were you thinking about? Did you think about what that would look like at all...to _Jane_?"

So he knows. Maura feels her cheeks get hot in the cold winter air. She shakes her head.

"Did you think about what it would mean? You showing up at her doorstep after finding out what happened? You bringing her a gift? You telling her how _special_ she is?"

Of course Jane would tell Barry what happened. They're best friends and he is her confidant. She tells him everything.

_I want to be the one she tells everything. _

The realization makes Maura stop walking. Frost looks over his shoulder, and sighs heavily, but when he speaks he still sounds just as angry.

"Look, now that you know everything, you'll be able to hear this. Jane _loved_ Grace."

Something wet and hot coils in Maura's stomach like a spring at these words, but she pushes it away, trying to focus.

"She loved her. They were best friends. They were more than that. And no one gave a damn about Jane when she died. No one asked her how she was feeling or if she missed Grace too. And then fucking Garrett..." Frost clenches his jaw, shaking his head.

"Look," he tries again. "She's my best friend. She's private and stubborn and sometimes I want to toss her off a bridge, but she's also the best damn person I know. And she deserves to be here. And to succeed here. And to _move on_. And I'm going to help her. No matter what."

There is no mistaking the innuendo there. Maura is not sure whether she is getting better at understanding the true meaning behind people's words, or if Barry is spelling it out for her.

"I never meant to hurt her," she says, and she speaks so softly that the wind almost carries her words away without him hearing. "I didn't mean to."

Frost's shoulders dip a little bit. He looks sad, though she knows it's not for her.

"FROST!" Jane calls from nearly a block away now, and Frost starts to walk again, throwing his hand up to show he's heard the brunette. "I know, Maura," he says after a second. He reties his scarf around his neck and picks up the pace. Maura lets him pull away from her, feeling defeated.

"But you did."

…

_"Do they hurt?" _

_Maura's question makes Jane look up from the desk jerkily, like a puppet with a poor controller. "What?" She asks, although Maura is sure that she's been heard, and understood. _

_"I just wondered if...if your hands hurt. If the-the scars-" _

_Jane shakes her head, which causes Maura to lose her nerve, "Jesus, Maura, do you ever like...give up?" _

_Maura bites her lip, trying to quell the desire to know Jane's full history. It doesn't work. _

_"I like to know everything," she says with a weak little smile. _

_To her surprise, Jane smiles back. "I know," she says quietly. "It's one of the things I like about you." _

_Maura can feel her eyebrows shoot up into her hair. "You like things about me?" She asks before she can stop herself. _

_Jane lifts her head slowly from her book once more, looking amused. "Uh, yeah, Maura. That's why I hang out with you," she says, grinning at Maura's delighted and surprised face. _

_For a moment Maura is speechless. This new revelation (and it is a revelation) has made her feel incredibly light. "Like what?" She blurts, and Jane laughs out loud, causing a snowglobe worthy storm of butterflies in her stomach. _

_"Well, for one, your inability to keep any idea, thought, or question inside your head," she says, still chuckling. _

_Maura blushes, "I would have thought that would be considered annoying," she says quietly. _

_Jane considers. "On some people, maybe, if they were being obnoxious, or...like...with shady motives. But on you it reads as genuine, and...I like it." Jane looks back down at her book, and Maura watches knee bounce up and down nervously. It is one of those rare afternoons where both of her roommates are doing something else, and so she has the entire suite to herself. It is nice and quiet and peaceful, and having Jane around just adds to her overall sense of wellbeing. _

_"What else?" She asks after a moment, and is rewarded with a smile that makes the room a little brighter. _

_"Ugh," Jane sighs heavily, but Maura doesn't miss the way her smile continues to tug at the corners of her mouth. "Really Maura?" And when the dancer nods, Jane flops from the futon onto the floor, as though the tediousness of this task is too much for her. _

_Maura giggles. _

_"Okay," Jane says slowly. "I guess, also I like that you are really just as passionate about dance as I am about music," she pauses, and then seems to be debating her next sentence. "I like…" she stops and Maura nods as enthusiastically as she can. _

_Jane sighs again, "I like that you challenge what I know about the way someone can be passionate about something." Jane pushes her hair out of her face and looks up at Maura, her eyes deep and dark and suddenly very serious. "I like that you make me rethink my convictions. And that you force me to reevaluate my convictions." _

_Silence. _

_Maura looks down at her book, but the letters are blurry and swirling and illuminated. She feels hot and cold at the same time. "That's," she clears her throat, "that's beautiful, Jane," she says softly, and for a moment Jane grins back at her, pleased. _

_Then she seems to come to her senses, and rolls over, facing away, grabbing her book and propping it up so it covers her face. _

_Maura smiles, and looks back down at her own text, the letters reshaping themselves into something legible now that the intensity of the moment is gone. _

_They work in silence for a long while, until Jane flips a page and says, in a very offhand way. _

_"It hurts more. Not playing." _

_Maura pulls her own book up to her face, and grins into it's pages._

_…..._

She goes to Ian Faulkner's room.

By the time she has made her way through the freezing cold inner campus to the dorm where she knows he lives, the tears she'd been trying so hard to keep inside, are leaving frozen little rivulets down her cheeks. She is coatless, and scarfless, and her arms are still full of CDs that, she realizes with gasp and new wave of tears, she has just stolen from the library.

She pushes open the big heavy doors to to the dorm with her body, and when she sees there is a group of older girls waiting for the elevator, pushes the door open to the stairwell, too. more stairs, going up this time, but she still takes them two by two. Now that she is inside. Now that everything is warmer, and the wind is not howling in her ears and through her hair, it is harder not to cry.

The names on the doors are blurry as she passes them, and when she gets to Ian's she hits it so hard with her fist that it flies open.

"Ian? Frost won't talk to me and Jane said 'leave her' and I...I stole all of these and my coat is gone and-and-" She pulls up abruptly as her eyes catch up with her brain.

Ian is on his bed, but he's not alone. She realizes that when she burst through the door, he and the other person there jumped apart, like they'd been burned.

She looks around to take in the girl he was most likely with….and finds that it is a boy.

"Wha…"

Nothing is making sense today.

"Maura?" Ian's shocked face is fading to concern, and he stands up and moves toward her, "What happened? Your teeth are _chattering_! Are you alright?"

Maura feels tears, freezing outside, now boiling hot drip down her nose. She looks down into her arms, at the CD cases.

"I stole these," she says tearfully. "I...upset Jane so badly…"

The boy on the bed, looks curiously at Ian. "Secret girlfriend?" he asks, with a little grin.

Ian doesn't smile. He barely takes his eyes off Maura. "She's my friend," he says, maybe more for Maura's benefit than for the boy's. "Xav, give us a minute will you?"

The other boy, Xav, pulls himself up off the bed with a little sigh. "Oookay," he says, and he disappears around Maura and out the door.

"Sit down," Ian says gently, leading Maura over to his bed. He takes the CDs from her and puts them on his desk. "Stay here, okay?"

He looks at her, and she must nods, because he disappears out the door.

She has just begun to think he might not come back, when he reappears, holding two styrofoam cups steaming with something that smells like chocolate.

He sits down next to her on the little bed, and hands her one of the cups."Drink," he says gently. "You'll feel better."

She lifts the cup to her mouth for something to do, and indeed, as soon as she has swallowed, the warmth of the liquid seems to envelope her.

"Thanks," she says weakly. "Thank you."

He nods, smiling gently at her. "No problem. Feel warmer?"

She definitely feels a little less numb. She nods, and he takes a sip from his own little styrofoam cup, eyes not leaving her face.

"So…" he says as the silence stretches between them. "You want to talk about it?"

Maura sips her hot chocolate and shakes her head, "I'm sure you already know the story," she mumbles.

Ian tilts his head thoughtfully, "I'd like to hear your side, if you want to give it."

Maura looks up, searching Ian's face, trying to find what's hidden there. The Maura Isles from three weeks ago, from three _days _ago even, would not have hesitated. She would have begun to speak without any sort of filter. She would have left herself completely at his mercy.

"Why?" she asks. "Aren't you going to tell me that Jane's had enough pain and suffering in her life, and can't I just leave her alone?"

Ian blinks at her, and then takes another sip of his coffee. "No," he says calmly. "I want to know what happened that made you nearly knock my dorm room door in, looking for someone to listen to you."

"She kissed me!" Maura nearly yells it, and Ian leans away from her a little, eyebrows raised. Maura reddens, but continues. "I...She...I found out about that scar on her neck. And the ones on her hands, though maybe you don't know about those...I found out the whole story, and what a horrible boy Garrett is, and I went downtown and I got her a gift to...to…"

But even this truncated, hollow version of last night illuminates the error of Maura's ways. She winces, and looks up at Ian, who is still looking back at her impassively, waiting for her to finish.

"I brought it to her dorm room," Maura says quietly, "and she, very rightly, didn't want anything to do with it or me...and then I told her she was special... And she kissed me."

Maura feels even more miserable than she did before at the end of this little speech. She can see everything so clearly now. Everything makes sense. She hangs her head.

"She's wanted to kiss me for an awfully long time," Maura says quietly. "And I never even realized...I must have looked like some sort of, strumpet."

Ian laughs out loud, a booming rumble that makes Maura jump in her seat. "Strumpet!" He says, still laughing. "I haven't heard that since about 1835."

Maura shakes her head. "What's the word I want?" She asks sadly.

Ian stops laughing and smiles kindly. "Tease," he answers. "And yes, surface observers like Frost may have thought you were baiting Jane…" he pauses, looking a little nervous. "But I never thought that."

"You didn't?"

Ian shakes his head, "No."

They are silent, and Ian takes another sip of his drink, studying the wood grain of the table with intense interest until Maura prompts him.  
"How come?"

Ian frowns at her, like she's asking him a question she should already know the answer to. "Because I've been where you are," he says softly. "I know what it's like to meet someone that totally turns your perception of everything upside down." He smiles again, looking wistful. "It's terrifying. And for a while, every single action you decide to take is the wrong one."

"Yes!" Maura says, excited. "That's exactly it. How did you know that?"

Ian waits until Maura meets his eyes. "How do you think I felt when I met Xavier?" He asks quietly.

She is quicker on the uptake this time, but her mouth still beats her brain back to the conversation.

"Xavier the boy?" Maura blurts.

But to her relief, Ian laughs. "Yeah...I'm not familiar with any Xavier the girl."

Maura blushes, and Ian continues, "Yeah, I know. Shocked the crap out of my dad too."

Maura feels her mouth fall open. "You told your father?"

Ian nods, "Scariest shit I've ever done in my life. But he said that as long as I could still throw a football seventy five yards and knock an apple off a fence post, what did he care if I was a ballerina and a poof."

Maura can't help her gasp, and Ian makes a noise that is half a chuckle and half a sigh. "Yeah...he's got a little ways to go," he rubs his hands together. "So have I, truth be told. I haven't told my old football buddies about Xavier...and...No one from here except my closest friends know what I transferred from."

He says _what _and not _where_, and Maura can't do anything but stare at him for a long, long moment. Ian smiles at her, and then sips his drink, and slowly, Maura puts together the reason for his confidence.

"Oh," she says quickly. "I don't...I'm not attracted to…" she tries to say "to Jane", but finds she can't quite manage it.  
"Girls," Maura she finishes. "I...

Ian doesn't seem put off by this. "That's cool. Neither am I. I'd choose the kind of girl that is a boy, any day of the week.."

Maura looks around to see him smiling, waiting for her to get the joke and laugh along. She smiles. "The boy kind of girl," she echos, and Ian shrugs.

"Yeah," He wiggles his eyebrows a little bit, a friendly gesture, a sign that they have bonded. "What's the difference, really?"

Maura opens her mouth to answer, but finds, for umpteenth time that weekend, that she has no valid response.

…

She makes it to the showcase, thanks to Ian, who retrieves her coat and scarf from the library, and then walks with her to the back entrance of the performance hall. They walk quickly, because of the weather, and close together, which it occurs to Maura might be less about the weather and more about Ian's protective, big brother aura. She'd felt it in his room, when they were talking, like he'd wanted to put his arm around her shoulder, to comfort her, but thought better of it.

She's a little sad that he handn't.

"Knock 'em dead," he says, when it's time for them to separate. "Who are we kidding, you're going to be amazing."

Maura had smiled, but not said anything. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would get sick.

.

It's always been her least favorite part: the waiting to perform. She stands in her outfit, stage right, and wonders if her mother made it. She wonders if Susie is out there, if she's sitting with Frost… She wonders if Jane has come.

Her partner, a tall, handsome junior named Julius, comes up beside her.

"We're next," he whispers.

Maura nods.

"You ready, Froshie?"

Another nod, even though her insides are screaming with nerves. What is this? Why are her hands shaking?

Why has dancing never meant this much to her before?

"Hey," he whispers again, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. "I won't drop you, Maur," he grins. "I promise."

She blinks at him, his promise sparking her memory like kindling.

_I'd never hurt you, Maura_

_I know you wouldn't, Jane._

"Oh," she says out loud, and Julius puts his finger to his lips.

"Are you going to be sick?" he whispers. "There's bucket over there in the corner. We call it the Frosh Bucket...no offense."

She looks towards the bucket, considering for a second, but too late.

The opening strains of their number are crescendoing up through the speakers, Violins, first one, then two. Flute…

"Whoops," Julius whispers. "Here we go!"

She looks up at him in time to see the smile drop off his face, to be replaced by a look of total concentration and then one of fear and confusion.

His character.

He doesn't look at her as he enters into the spotlight, on cue, in sync with the music.

_First you dream. _

_Dream about incredible things. Then you look, and suddenly, you have wings._

_You can fly. You can fly. _

_But first you dream. _

It's fantasy. It's Peter Pan. It's a boy and a girl, in love and together. Is she scared? Does she worry about their future? He's always dreaming. He can't keep his feet on the ground. She needs to be realistic. She needs to be practical. It won't work. They are so different.

_First you dream, dream about remarkable times. _

_Close your eyes, and see how your spirit climbs. _

_You can fly. You can soar! Feel the wind. Hear it roar. _

_It's easy now. Imagine that. But first you dream. _

The singer's voice is liquid. It is like swimming when the air is so heavy there's no difference between below and above. She jumps, and she's caught.

She's flying. It's not real.

It's real. He can show her. She wants it to be, but she has to stay realistic. Hard work gets you where you need to be.

He takes her hand. He says make a wish.

He says make a wish.

For a moment. Maura breaks. She looks out into the audience and she is not Wendy. She is not enchanted. She is not about to fly. For a moment she looks out, into the crowd. She sees her mother, staring up at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

She sees Jane.

_Here we are. High above the roof tops. There's a barn, there's a field of corn…_

_And the little white house where another you was born. _

_Isn't it fine, isn't it fair. _

_Being up here…looking down there. _

Make a wish. The music is swelling now. Not a recording but the real orchestra, down there in the pit. A real conductor, looking up, playing off of the dancers.

Making something real and whole and tangible enough to put in your pocket.

It's real. He can show her. Julius holds out his hand.

Make a wish.

Jane.

Her wish is Jane.

_Take my hand. I promise that I won't let you fall. _

_Don't look back! The looking back could end it all. _

_Off we go, to the sky. Straight ahead, you and I…_

_Together now. _

_Together now. _

_But first you dream. _

_First you dream. _

...

Maura does not hear the applause.

She does not see the people stand up, like one tidal wave of humanity. She does not hear Frost whistling through his teeth, so loud that it pierces her eardrums, sounding high above everyone elses.

She doesn't see Julius triumphant, exuberant face, or feel him take her hand and pull her down into a bow.

She sees one narrow waisted, brunnette girl, eyes wide and awestruck staring up at her on stage.

Nothing else exists.


	9. Chapter 9

Maura pushes through the crowd looking for Jane.

She looks at every brunette who is similar in height and build to Jane. She turns her neck left and right so fiercely and so frequently that it hurts. The adrenaline of the performance still pumps through her body and it's _Jane_ over and over again. Rationally, as she pushes past parents and teachers and students, she tries to slow her thought process down. Tries to understand what happened to her in the last part of that dance.

I want Jane. So simple and so terribly complicated. Want her where? As what? And _why?_

All around her, people turn to look at her as she rushes by her, and even through the haze that has descended around her, she can hear their adulation.  
"What a performance Miss Isles."

"How magnificently you danced."

"Wait, Maura, come here, my son says you are a freshman but that cannot be true."

Her mother, Maura thinks, if she's watching is going to be horrified by her apparent rudeness. She smiles and nods, saying "thank you, thank you so much, if you'll excuse me. I'm looking for…"

She lets the end of her sentence trail away. Let them think she is looking for her mother. It is not a lie, not really. She turns away from their bemused faces and scans the rest of the hall.

There.

Jane is there, near the refreshment table. And there is Ian, and Frost and Susie, and they are all talking and smiling, and for a moment Maura's heart swells. Jane came! Jane came, and then she stayed, and she will go over there and they will make up and…

And what?

Maura feels fear emulsify her feet into the carpet. What is she going to _say?_ What can she say that does not sound supremely unfair?

_I wished for you. I wished for you while I was dancing and you are here now and everything is going to be okay. Now that I understand what I want, everything is going to be okay. _

But does she understand? Does she want Jane to kiss her again, or simply to hang out with her? Does she want to hold the brunette's hand in the middle of campus, or does she just want to see those dark, humorous eyes flash at her over a bowl of coco puffs every morning?

How can she confess to Jane, when she does not know what she is confessing to?

Maura watches the three of them chat with each other, watches as a tall dark haired boy she remembers as Xavier comes and joins them, and then, to her utmost surprise…Bette appears at Jane's elbow, looking up at the brunette with a goofy, excited sort of grin.

No.

Maura feels understanding bloom and then immediately be crushed by a tidal wave of jealousy, hot and burning her throat like salt water.

_Does she ever…mention her Extras? Does she ever talk about me?_

This understanding is enough to push her forward, to untangle herself from the carpet and move towards over to the little group of friends, but before she can make it two steps, a large, rough hand takes her arm and spins her around.

She is looking up into the face of Garrett Fairfield.

"Maura!" He says, his hand still on her arm, without her permission. "Maura," his voice is urgent, and his eyes search her face, "I've been looking all over for you."

In every book that Maura has read, the climax of the story comes when the protagonist finds himself face to face with the antagonist. Maura can remember reading the descriptions of hatred and fright that had rippled through the new Mrs. De Winter at the sight of her deceitful housekeeper Mrs. Danvers, or the general disdain and antipathy that had oozed from Holden Caulfield on each page, but never in her life did she dream that she could feel that kind of frenzied fear and anger in real life.

Now, looking up into Garrett's smooth, handsome face, Maura feels feverish with emotion. As hard as she wished for Jane at the end of her dance, that's as hard as she wishes for the end of Garrett's existence now. She doesn't want to see him, to think about him, to ever have to hear his name, ever again.

"What do you want?" she spits, and Garrett looks momentarily startled. Maura feels a tiny surge of vindictive pride. She was also unaware that her voice could sound so cold.

_My mother would be so proud_, she thinks in the back of her mind. _She would be proud that I was holding my own._

He looks down at her, his face fixing itself into some caricature of condescending patience, and she feels bile rise in the back of her throat. She wants to spit on him.

"I came to see you dance," he says, as though this should be obvious. "You danced amazingly…I brought you these," He shifts a bit, and it's only then that she realizes that he is carrying a bouquet of roses in his free hand, and that there is a box of chocolates under his arm, no doubt shoved there when he reached out to grab her.

Maura frowns, "Why would you think I would want-" she begins, but Garrett cuts her off, tugging her arm so that she steps closer to him involuntarily.

He lowers his voice. "Listen, Maura," he says quietly, "I know we had a bit of a fight the other day…or…there was some kind of misunderstanding. But I want you to know that I think you are-"

Maura pulls her arm free with a jerk, "I don't care what you think," she hisses, "and I didn't misunderstand anything. I know what kind of a person you are, Garrett Fairfield," she strikes out at him, wanting to hit him, or push him away, or to simply release some of the unbearable pressure that is building in her chest. Her hand knocks the box of candies from under his arm and it drops to the floor, spilling open and scattering chocolates everywhere.

Garrett looks shocked, and then angry. His face colors as he looks up from the carpet, and for the space of a second, Maura wonders if she's made a big mistake.

"What the fuck would you do that f-" he starts, but then he looks up, over Maura's shoulder and cuts off abruptly, rolling his eyes and then his shoulders impatiently.

"Oh, fucking Christ," he says under his breath, and Maura turns to see Ian striding towards them, followed by Frost and then, a ways back, Susie. Maura feels her heart drop…No Jane.

"Is there a problem?" Ian says smoothly, coming to stand by Maura.

"Jesus," Garrett says lowly, "No…what are you, her body guard?"

"Does she need one?" This new voice comes from behind Maura too, and it is so icy and familiar that the dancer doesn't even turn around, just waits for Constance to make her way into her field of vision, stepping carefully around each fallen chocolate like they are miniature land mines.

"Mrs. Isles," Garrett sounds surprised, though not fully off balance. Maura watches his momentarily shocked expression slip into one of polite interest. He smiles.

_Snake,_ Maura thinks.

"Garrett Fairfield," Constance says, and although her mouth smiles, her eyes are aflame. She glances at Maura, her arms crossed and flushed face, and her smile flickers for half a second.

"Garrett Fairfield standing in front of my daughter with a dozen red roses, chocolates…" her eyes travel over the bouquet of roses in his hand, and then fall to the box of chocolates on the floor. She raises an eyebrow.

"Apparently in the middle of courting her," she finishes calmly. "How…" she searches for the word, her hand moving idly in the air.

Garrett's obsequious smile widens, "pleasantly surprising?" he guesses, "charming? Chivalrous?" He chuckles, clearly thinking he's being dashing. "Gallant?"

Ian snorts, and Garrett glares at him for half a second. It is not missed by Constance, whose smile hardens, and she steps forward. Maura swallows. "None of those are the words that came to mind," she says, her tone saying everything that she is not.

Garrett's smile nearly vanishes. He watches as Constance turns to her daughter. "You were making quite a scene, sweetheart," she says quietly, and Maura colors a bit more.

"Oh," Garrett sounds a little relieved and a little panicky, "Just a bit of a misunderstand-"

Constance turns her head to take Garrett in. She frowns as though mildly disappointed, but when she speaks, her voice is icy.

"Is this habit of speaking for other people universal, or does it pertain only to the female you wish to dominate at the moment?"

Garrett's mouth drops open, but no sound comes out.

Constance turns back to her daughter. "Maura, darling, was it you who knocked these chocolates on the ground?"

Maura can only nod.

"And what caused you to act in such an indecorous fashion?"

Maura looks up into her mother's eyes, wondering if she is supposed to tell the truth, or to make an excuse. She decides on somewhere in the middle.

"I…I told him I didn't want to see him anymore," she says quietly, and her face burns a little with an emotion she can't put her finger on. "I…I don't want to see him anymore."

Garrett does not seem able to help himself. "She doesn't mean-"

Constance holds up her hand, and Garrett stops talking, looking angry with himself. "Garrett," Constance says coldly.

"Ma'am," he responds, the first hint of nerves creeping into his voice.

"Are you my daughter's keeper?"

Garrett's cheeks get pink, "No, Mrs. Isles."

"Ma'am was better," Constance replies. "And, if you are not her keeper, how do you know what she means?"

Garrett swallows, and seems to be holding himself tightly under control when he says, "I-I don't...ma'am." Constance nods, and starts to turn away, when Garrett continues, in a rush, "we just had a bit of a misunderstanding...the other day...and I think she may have assumed some things about me that aren't true to my charac-"

But Constance loses her temper, turning and pointing at Garrett with one slender finger. She speaks quietly and carefully, so as not to disturb what is left of the crowd in the hall, but for all the intensity in her voice, she might as well be howling. "I know all about your character, Garrett _Fairfield_," she says lowly, emphasizing his last name carefully. Garrett's eyes widen by a fraction as he understands.

"I know all about your character, and, I have to say that I am not sure I want that character any near my daughter. _Especially_ if she concurs with that sentiment."

Garrett opens his mouth, finds no retort, and shuts it again.

Constance looks back at Maura and then at Ian, Frost and Susie, who are standing feet away, all of them looking very awkward. "Maura," Constance's voice is businesslike, "these are your friends?"

Maura blinks at the quick change in subject, but turns away from Garrett, nodding. "Yes. This is Ian and Fr-Barry, and this is Susie."

Constance shakes all their hands in turn, and when she gets to Susie, the little dancer goes pink and does some kind of half bow, half curtsey that makes the edges of Constance's mouth turn up ever so slightly.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," she says, and when they've all nodded back at her, she turns her attention to Ian, "and thank you, for intervening just now. I was across the room when that young man took Maura's arm, and was not sure I would get here in time."

Ian nods, smiling slowly. "Maura's our friend," he says with a little wink at the dancer, "We've got her back."

Constance seems a little surprised by this, but her smile is the closest thing to genuine that Maura has seen in a while. "That is…refreshing to hear," she says after a moment. "Thank you."

They talk for a couple more minutes, just polite nothings about the show, their years and majors, and then Constance takes Maura's arm and excuses them.

"See ya, Maura," Ian calls.

"Yeah! See you tomorrow?" Susie echoes, and Maura waves over her shoulder at them, catching a glimpse of her mother's expression out of the corner of her eye. It is too hard to read.

They walk through the frigid night to Maura's dorm room, and for a long while, Constance doesn't speak. Maura keeps stealing glances at the woman out of the corner of her eye, but she is still unable to read her face. She could be angry, there's the thin set line of the lips. She could be sad, there's a glistening to her eyes that Maura hasn't seen before.

She swallows, "Mother…" Constance stops walking to look down at her, "I'm…sorry." Yes, sorry seems like the right way to go. "I didn't seek Garrett out. I didn't mean to cause a scene. But what he's done just makes my skin crawl with-"

"How is it possible you have changed so dramatically in just three short months," Constance interrupts her daughter as though she hasn't heard a word Maura has said. "The Maura I sent away to college would never have knocked the chocolates from anyone's hand. She never would have stood up for herself let alone had…had _friends_ that would have come to her aid."

This last part is true, but it still stings a bit. Maura looks up at her mother, trying to decide if she is being chastised or praised.

"I don't-"

"Where did you learn to dance like that, Maura?"

"What?" The question catches her off guard.

"Are you in love with that boy? The one you danced with?"

Maura shakes her head, trying to keep up. "What? In lo- No! No! Julius is just my dance partner…Mother, I-"

"Well it must be someone," Constance says, hardly listening. She looks a little panicked. Maura can't understand it. "It must be someone who made you dance that way."

"I don't understand," Maura says, but Constance still isn't listening. "I don't _understand_," She says a little louder, and her mother's ocean blue eyes finally focus on her. "Are you upset with the way I danced?" She asks, "Do you think it could have been more satisfactor-"

But Constance grabs Maura around the shoulders. It is an action she has never done before, and it is as close as they have come to hugging since Maura was in elementary school. She gasps at the force with which her mother holds on.

"_More _satisfactory?" she says, her voice rising. "Maura…do you understand the…" she falters, "the grace and poise with which you danced tonight?"

Maura feels relief like a cup of hot water thrown down her back. "You enjoyed it," she says quietly.

Constance looks a little bit sad. "I enjoyed immensely, Maura…I-I didn't quite know what to do with myself when it had ended." Constance drops her hands. For a moment she stands, just looking at Maura, as if there is so much that she wants to ask, but is unsure where to start.

Maura smiles a little. "It is…because of a person. That I danced that way."

Constance straightens up, her face slipping back into its normal expression of polite and stony interest.

"Well, then you mustn't let him go," she says. "And the next time I am in town…I'll meet him."

It is not a question. Maura feels panic stab at her ribs.

"Yes, Mother."

For a moment longer they stand on the sidewalk, looking at each other, and several times Constance looks like she is going to speak, and then seems to think better of it. Finally she looks at her watch, and pulls her coat closer around herself.

"I should be getting back to the hotel," she says briskly, glancing at Maura. "Are you ok to go back to your dorm? You have that boy…Ian, was it? You have his number if you meet anyone…unsavory."

Maura almost smiles. This is the mother she knows. "Yes," she says, "Thank you for coming, mother…it…it meant a lot to me."

Constance has already turned away from her daughter, but she turns back at this last confession, and for a second, she seems to consider coming back up to Maura…maybe even hugging her.

But, "to me too, dear," she says rebuttoning the top button of her coat. "Stay well, and warm, alright? I'll be in touch."

And with that she is gone, disappearing around the corner towards the main street.

Maura stands for a moment, trying to decide what to do, and then just as she has made up her mind to head to the Student Center and check her mail, she hears someone calling her name.

"Maura! Hey! Maura," she turns to see Frost running at her, waving his hand.

She stays where she is, watching him get closer, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Hey," he says, breathing hard.

"Hey," she says slowly. "What's – uh- what's up?"

Frost looks at her nervously, still panting. "You…you know, you danced really well," he says after regaining his breath.

"Thank you," she says cautiously, and then, when he doesn't move, she speaks again. "Did you just run three blocks to tell me that only? That I danced well?"

Frost kicks at an invisible rock on the sidewalk. "No," he says, but doesn't elaborate.

Maura raises her eyebrows but doesn't break the silence. An old Maura, that may not exist anymore, would have rambled on to fill the dead space between them. By now she would be apologizing and spouting facts...reciting something she heard somewhere, and not giving either of them any chance to breathe.  
"I…" Frost kicks again, "I wanted to apologize. For yelling at you the way I did."

Maura nods, trying to keep herself from smiling. "It's okay," she says, "I understand why you did. I'm sorry too. I had no right to go poking-"

"She was gonna tell you, anyway," Frost cuts her off.

"What?"

"She'd planned on telling you. She said you deserved to know, if you were going to hang out all the time."

Maura tries to digest this new information, but it sits on the top of her brain like an ice cube, leaking slowly. "She-She was?"

Frost shrugs, "Yeah, that's what she said…" He glances up at her, and then away. "Anyway, I wanted to say…sorry."

"Me too," Maura says, still trying to comprehend.

"Okay."

"Okay."

Frost starts to turn around and head in the direction he'd come, and Maura is about to turn and head on too, when he calls her back.

"Hey, Maura?"

"Yes?" She asks, turning to face him again.

"The dance on Parent's Night. Did you do that…for her?"

Maura nods, her throat too constricted to say anything for a moment. "Yes," she chokes out finally. "It was for her."

Frost nods, and turns away again. "Cool," he says quietly. "Very cool."

…

* * *

But it is three days later that Maura finally comes face to face with Jane. She returns to her dorm room after her last class, tired and sore, but feeling accomplished, and rounds the corner to see Jane standing in front of her front door.

As she watches, the brunette raises her hand to knock, changes her mind, raises her hand again, and then presses her palm flat against the wood of the door.

Maura's heart flips over in her chest. "That's an odd way to knock," she says quietly, but Jane still jumps.

"Jesus, Maura," she says, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Scared the crap out of me."

For the first time in her life, Maura makes the decision to act ignorant. "Bette's not here," she says flatly. "I just saw her at the student center."

Jane sucks her cheeks in and then puffs them out. "Oh," she says, and Maura is visited by a brief spasm of panic that Jane did _actually _come to see her roommate. But, "no," Jane continues, "I came to see…you, actually."

"You did?" pleasure, like sun rays, laps over Maura in waves.

"Yeah…" Jane looks down at her shoes. "I heard that Garrett Fairfield was messing with you…I just…I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Maura hides a smile. "That was three days ago Jane."

Jane does not hide her grin, "So I walk really slow," she says "Cut me a break."

Maura can't help but laugh. Jane's shoulders relax an inch. "Look, Maura," she tries to stand in a way that doesn't make her look nervous, but Maura can still read it there, now that she understands the cues. "Can we talk for a second?"

What beautiful words.

Maura smiles, moving forward to unlock the door. "Of course," she says pushing it open. "Come in!"

.

In the room she shares with Bette, Maura watches Jane flop down onto her mattress and then pull her legs into a pretzel. She sits down on the bed too, folding her hands in her lap.

For a while, nobody speaks, and then,

"I'm sorry I kissed you."

Maura looks up. Jane is looking down into her lap, picking at her cuticles.

"Are you?"

Jane glances up, surprised, and then away. "Yeah!" she says, "I mean…I'm sorry that I…made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry I…made the presumption that-"

"I'm sorry I ran," Maura interrupts. "I'm sorry I ran, and sorry that I hurt you."

Jane rolls her shoulders. "You didn't…I should have told you."

"It's not my business," Maura says simply. "I should have left it alone."

"I try to forget it," Jane says lowly, and Maura leans in a little so she can hear. "I try to just…let go. My mom would say let go and let god…I just," she shrugs. "I try to let go."

Maura wants to say she understands. But she does not.

"I came back," she says it quietly, but Jane still pulls away from her a little bit. "I came back…that night."

Jane shakes her head so her hair falls into her face. So she doesn't have to look at Maura. "I know," just as quietly, "I heard you."

"I knocked, and waited…for hours."

Jane makes a frustrated gesture, "I didn't ask you to."

"I…I wanted to explain. I wanted to apologize."

Jane curls her hands into fists and then flattens them against the bed. Maura wonders if the cold weather is getting to them. "I don't want your apologies."

"I shouldn't have gone prying into your-"

But Jane looks up, eyes fiery, "I said I _didn't_ want them, Maura. God!"

Maura clamps her mouth shut around the 'I'm sorry' that threatens to push its way out between her lips. Jane shifts on the bed, a little bit farther away. Maura's heart feels like it might be breaking. She stares at the brunette for a while, wondering how on earth she'd gone through life allowing everything to simply skim the surface. Never letting anything touch her deeply.

"I didn't run because it wasn't nice," she says into the silence. "I didn't run because…"

"I know."

"I so want to be your friend, Jane. I don't know about the other things…no one's ever found me…enticing, and-"

"Enticing, jesus, you make yourself sound like a cake."

Maura almost smiles, but the topic prevents it. "I've never been in this situation. With _anyone._ But I do want you in my life Jane. If you still want to be."

There. That's as honest as she knows how to be. She waits, watching the brunette pick at her fingers, hardly daring to breathe.

There is silence for a long stretch, and Maura is just about to say something, when the door bursts open and Bette comes rushing in. She stops dead at the sight of Maura and Jane sitting together on Maura's bed.

"Oh!" she says, and a smile creeps over her features. "I didn't know you were here, Jane…I would have come back sooner," she shoots a furtive look at Maura, "Hey, Maur,"

Maura feels her insides tighten, but Jane looks totally calm. "Hey, Bette, I actually came to see Maura," she says, and Bette colors instantly.  
"Oh," she says, "Oh…of course. I shouldn't have assumed…I mean I just thought…I mean. I'll give you guys some space, yeah. Of course."

She bumps into the door frame on the way out, and nearly slams the door shut, and Maura looks after her, until Jane's chuckling makes her look around.

"Bette likes you," she's not sure where it comes from, or why she says it with such venom in her voice, but it makes Jane's head jerk up, makes those dark eyes focus on her.

"What?"

"She pretty much all but told me, the other night, in bed. She asked me if you ever talk about her."

Jane blinks at Maura, and then to the dancer's dismay, she bursts into laughter.

"It's not funny, Jane!" Maura says, although she's not immediately sure what to follow that up with. She opts for repeating herself. "She _likes_ you…like she's _attracted_ to you."

Jane snorts, "First of all," she says leaning a little bit closer to Maura, "You're jealous."

Maura colors, "I am N-

Jane waves her away, "second, I will tell you a secret about Bette. She is attracted to anything with a pulse and a little bit of talent."

Maura blinks, and Jane smiles, not exactly _at _her, but close. "Her number one priority is to excel…even if she has to trade sex for extra Extras."

Maura's mouth falls open, and Jane raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Not me," she says flatly. "I don't go for that."

The dragon breathing fire in her intestines eases off a little bit, and Maura can think of nothing other to say than, "you don't have just a little bit of talent, Jane."

The brunette shrugs, "Neither do you…" she runs a hand through her hair. "I…heard you danced really well the other night."

Maura doesn't answer for a moment, and Jane continues, flexing her fingers slightly. "Frost, um, Frost said you danced well."

Maura looks down at her hands, unsure why she feels upset. "I saw you in the audience, Jane," she says quietly.

The pianist freezes. She even seems to stop breathing.

Maura reaches out and touches her knee. "You came to see me," she says quietly.

Jane takes a shaky breath. "Fr-Frost made me."

"No, he didn't," Maura knows this, even if she couldn't say how. "No he didn't, Jane,"

Jane shivers, but her voice stays steady. "Maura, can you move your hand?"

Maura looks down at her hand on Jane's knee. "Why?"

"Because when you do that, it's hard for me to…remember that we are just friends."

Something hot and liquid and warm spreads out through Maura's veins at Jane's words. She catches her breath. "But we are friends?" she whispers.

Jane nods. "Yeah," she whispers back.

Maura squeezes Jane's knee, feeling the other girl tense under her touch. "But you're attracted to me."

Jane's head dips lower. She nods. "Doesn't mean I can't…Doesn't mean I don't want to be your friend…If you don't mind." She takes one long deep breath, "I can try to stop."

Maura bites her lip. Now? Is it now or never? She's never acted on any feeling she wasn't completely sure of before. Her spine tingles with nerves.

"I…I'm not sure I want you to stop," she says quietly.

If possible, Jane's muscles tighten even more. Maura wonders at her strength, and remembers, with a swooping feeling, how it had felt to be lifted up in her arms. "I mean…I'm not sure what…how I…"

"Stop," Jane says abruptly, and Maura is so surprised that she pulls her hand away.

"I'm sorry," she says automatically.

Jane rolls her eyes. "Stop saying that…God…Look," she runs a hand through her hair, momentarily revealing the scar on her neck.

"Look, Maura, I like you, a lot."

"I like you too, Jane."

"But I can't hang out with you if you're going to treat me like an invalid, like I'm a lovesick puppy who needs to be pitied."

Maura blinks. Is that what she's been doing? "I-I would never-"

"Or if you're going to apologize all the time. I loved you…so what." This last line is delivered with less bravado than Maura thinks Jane would have liked, but she smiles up at the brunette anyway, eager.

"I'm so-" Maura bites her lip. Jane grins. "I'll work on it," she amends.

Jane nods, and pulls her knees up to her chest, resting her chin in the hollow. She is silent, like she's thinking, and Maura wants to ask her if they are okay, wants to ask if this means they will start to hang out again.

But Jane stretches, and swings her feet over the edge of the bed, and stands up, heading for the door. "Okay," she says, "I'll see you around then, Maura."

Maura stands too, feeling nervous, like if she lets this girl out of her sight, she will disappear forever.

"Jane?"

The brunette turns, "Yeah?"

"You remember how you said it hurt more not playing than it did to play with your scars?"  
Jane's face hardens, but she nods.

Maura swallows, "that's how it felt, when you weren't talking to me…when you were avoiding me. I'd rather you just…rage all you want at me for being a busybody. I couldn't stand not talking to you."

Jane's face crumbles a little, but she seems to hold herself back. She smiles gently and then turns to the door.  
"I know Maur," she says quietly, and even if it's more to herself than to the dancer, Maura still hears her before the click of the latch on her door.

"Me too."


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you guys. Thank you all so much for your reviews and your pms and your...just your overall support. I can't describe what it means to me. I need like a stadium and an orchestra and...at least 3 dozen highly trained ponies to describe what you guys mean to me. I am humbled and overwhelmed every time i log in. So thank you. From the guests who just started reviewing to people like bnh1969, charlie the CAG, TV crazed, and Cstarj, who have been with me from the very first fic...I can't...there aren't..._

_just thanks. you all have inspired me, pushed me, saved me, and been like real, herewithmerightnow friends. _

_happy reading_

_tc_

* * *

...

...

Something is happening to Maura. Something inside of her is changing. It is not a subtle, wallflower blooming kind of thing, but a strong, sudden change in the fundamental, and maybe even elemental, aspects that make up the dancer's character. She goes to bed at night, and when she wakes up in the morning, she _feels_ different. She showers and dresses and fixes her hair in the mirror and she _looks_ different.

Her mother calls over the weekend before Thanksgiving break to give Maura a choice: She can come to Italy with Constance and Richard, and miss the first week back at school due to a late return, or she can spend the Thanksgiving holiday in NYC.

Maura bites her lip, sitting on the end of her bed, one shoe on. "Um," she says into the phone.

"Don't say-" Her mother seems to catch herself. She takes a breath and starts over. "Your father and I would love to see you," she says, "however I know it puts a strain on your school work, to return late."

Maura nods at no one. "I don't think I can manage it, Mother."

There is a pause, and when Constance speaks again, she sounds genuinely upset. "I understand...Though I am going to miss you." There is another, more pregnant pause, and then, "And I will miss not seeing you."

Maura pulls the phone away from her ear to look at it. She stares long enough that when she puts it back to her ear, she can hear her mother saying her name, concerned.

"I-I'm going to regret not seeing you too," she stutters, and then, because this feels much too formal. "I miss you too, Mother. I think about you often."

Her mother makes a sound that might be a gasp, but that also leans a bit towards a whimper.

"Well," Constance says, her voice not completely back under control. "I will see you at the Christmas holiday, correct?"

Maura smiles, "Yes, certainly."

"Wonderful…" Maura shakes her head a little at her shoes. She has never known her mother to be at a loss for words. "I'll see you soon, darling."

"Yes, Mother."

They hang up, and Maura's phone buzzes immediately, and all thoughts of her mother's peculiar behavior are driven from her mind when she pulls up the little window.

**Jane: Breakfast?**

Maura practically flies out the door.

….

As the weeks have gone by, Maura is more and more convinced that Jane is playing with her. Not maliciously, and certainly not too roughly, but definitely playing. They spend time together, with the group and without, and in both situations, Jane stands a little closer to her than she used to, looks at the dancer a little longer than normal.

It makes Maura feel like she's getting a fever. It makes her feel uncomfortable and special and important and afraid.

The brunette never touches her, never says anything too suggestive or too forward, but Maura can feel the words on the tip of Jane's tongue, and sometimes, when she catches Jane looking at her, the pianist will lick her lips, like she's wiping unsaid sentences away.

Maura enters the cafeteria for breakfast on the Monday before Thanksgiving break, and waves to her little group of friends before making her way through the lunch line. She sits down just as Susie is leaving. The miniature freshman is looking more and more haggard by the day, and Maura thinks that even if she is dreading the holiday, it might do Susie some good.

"Hi, Susie," she says, sitting down across from Jane and Frost, who are in the middle of an arugument. "You can't stay?"

"Can't," Susie says, yawning, "I have an Extra now."

"You know, Susie," Frost says, breaking off to look at her, "They are called Extras for a reason. You're not supposed to take as many of them as you are classes."

Susie looks at him scornfully, "You're also supposed to have perfect turn out, and be able to memorize combos immediately, and have a perfectly straight legs on the-"

"Susie," Frost cuts across her, "chill, lady. You're the hardest working freshman. Period. Out of any major."

Susie looks a little mollified, but still goes about clearing her things.

"I'll see you before the holiday, right, Susie?" Maura asks hopefully.

"Of course," Susie says already turning away. "I'm always in one room or another. Just look for me."

"That's...not what I…" Maura trails off. Susie is already gone.

She turns back around to her food, and after a quick hello from Frost and a fleeting grin from Jane, the two of them fall back into their previous conversation.

"Just come home with me, Jane, please? My mom will do all your laundry, and you can help me teach Cam how to beat SSX Tricky on the Gamecube."

Jane shakes her head. "No," she says. "No Boston. Hopefully not ever again, and definitely not for the holidays. You can let it go Frost," she says as the boy begins to argue, "There's nothing you can say to change my mind."

Frost frowns. "You don't have to _do_ anything. It just doesn't make sense for you not to come home?"

Jane stares at him. "You are running out of arguments, if that's the weak sauce you are throwing at me," she says, going back to her cereal.

"Jane-"

"You're staying on campus for Thanksgiving?" Maura interrupts, making both Frost and Jane look around.

"No," Frost says, at the same time that Jane nods her head.

"Yeah," she says, waving Frosts protests away. "No, Frost, I love your family, and I love your Mom and Robin and Cam, but I'm always a third wheel," she pause to do some quick addition, "a _fifth_ wheel," she amends.

Maura opens her mouth to say that she is not going home for Thanksgiving either, but what comes out is, "who are Cam and Robin?"

Frost sighs heavily, looking at Jane reproachfully, "They're my mom's partner and her son," he says, distractedly, "c'mon, Jane, think of the turkey...my mom'll make the stuffing you like, I already asked her. And I'm sure we could work out a way to see Frankie and Tommy without actually...you know...going around your-"

"No," Jane's voice turns cold instantaneously. "I'm not going."

Frost sighs again.

Maura picks one of the many burning questions she has and throws it into the air.

"You're mom is a lesbian?" She sounds too interested. Jane chuckles into her cereal.

"Yeah," Frost says casually, "She just came out like...a few years ago. Took her ages. I knew from the moment she divorced my dad."

"I found this kid knocking around an Ally meeting at the Pride Center downtown," Jane says through a mouthful of frosted flakes. "Thought he was gay, and that I could have a decent friendship with a guy that wouldn't get gross and complicated," she grins sweetly at Frost, who throws a homefry at her.

"Too bad for her she has awful gaydar," he fires back.

"And things got gross and complicated," Jane says with another chuckle, "There's a high school prom picture to back that statement up."

"But you came through it," Maura says earnestly, and both of them turn to look at her. She blushes a little, but doesn't look away. "You came through it and now you're best friends."

Jane nods, but Frost looks thoughtful.

In the silence that follows this, Maura allows another one of her questions to bubble up to the surface. "There's a Pride Center in Boston?" She asks now, Jane shoots Frost a look that she can't quite read before responding.

"There's one in every big city I'd guess."

Maura looks down at her plate, one egg, one half slice of toast, one cup strawberries. "Hmm," she says.

"They are _full_ of information," Jane says, and there's that note in her voice again. Maura looks up into dark sparkling eyes, and feels her stomach flip over.

She blushes.

"Knock it off, Jay," Frost says, but his irritation is made less effective by his obvious amusement. He stands with his plate, and Jane follows suit, eyes wide in a perfect imitation of innocence.

"What?" she asks, as he heads to the door.

"You know perfectly well what," he calls over his shoulder, and Jane flashes a grin at Maura that makes her drop her fork.  
"See you later, Maura," she says before hurrying after the drama major.

She is still watching the place where the two of them have disappeared, when Ian pulls up a chair at her table. He is usually the last at their table, opting to sleep in to the last possible moment, and then cram as much food as possible into his mouth at the last moment. Maura doesn't know how he does it.

"Wow," he says, and she whips around to look at him.

"What?" Maura says distractedly, "wow what?"

"Just...If I didn't know any better," he says slowly, "I'd say that you have it bad for Jane Rizzoli. Like..._really_ bad."

Out of all of her friends, the new ones like Julius, and her first ever, like Frost, Maura finds she is most comfortable around Ian. There is no point in playing games with him.

"I assume by 'it' you mean...That I feel an attraction to her that goes beyond friendship?"

Ian nods, biting his lip in the way that tells her he's trying not to laugh. She sighs good naturedly. "What's the slang term for what I just said?" she asks, and he grins at her.

"Got the hots for," he says, and when she makes a face, "no? Okay, how about...you want her. You want in her pants. You would not mind a roll in the sack with that fine specimen."

She laughs, easily, and Ian laughs with her looking impressed. "You know, a week ago, if I had said any of those things, you would have crawled under the table in embarrassment."

Maura pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear and considers. Yes, she feels comfortable with Ian, she feels comfortable discussing these things, but there is still the popcorn like jumping of her insides, like she's had too much coffee.

"Don't rule it out just yet," she says.

Ian puts an entire croissant into his mouth, and Maura shakes her head, feeling a twinge of jealousy at his metabolism.

"Still," he says, "Am I wrong?"

Maura tries to swallow, but finds that her throat has gone completely dry. "That I, what was it, have the hots for Jane Rizzoli?" She takes a sip of water to avoid answering for a moment, and then, because there is nothing else to do, she replies honestly. "I don't know."

Ian makes a face, "Well your expression certainly knows."

She smiles fleetingly, but ends up sighing.

Ian sobers, "You really _don't _know?"

She shakes her head, and they fall into silence for a bit, Ian chewing on a second croissant, Maura reliving the way that Jane's smile had hit her in the chest, hard and full, like a pillow.

"I really don't know," she says again, and out of the corner, she sees Ian roll his eyes.

"What's not to know?" He asked. "She kissed you, and you ran away. She had you flustered enough that you stole CD's from the music library."

"Shhh!" Maura says, looking around. Ian laughs.

"You brought them back, Maura...anyway, besides that, Frost says you danced on Parent's Night, thinking about her, and Jesus fuck Maur," He runs a hand through his hair, "I know you don't like swears, but your dancing was the most amazing fucking thing I think I've ever experienced."

She blushes at the compliment, even though she wants to be upset over his language.

"Thank you," she says, even though she's shaking her head. "Thank you."

Ian huffs, "So what's the problem then?" He asks.

Maura opens her mouth, and then shuts it again, unsure what she wants to say. What _is_ the problem? Jane is funny, smart, talented, passionate, clearly attracted to her, and she's…

"the first person I've ever kissed," Maura says, looking around at Ian.

"Huh?"

Maura raises her voice a little. "Jane is the first person that I've ever kissed," she says again, and Ian raises his eyebrows.

"You didn't kiss anyone in High School?"

Maura looks down into her lap, "No," she says shortly, unwilling to delve back into her high school social life, even with Ian.

"But...Garrett?"

"He kissed my cheek."

Ian sits back in his chair, thinking. "So," he says after a moment, "Jane is the first person that…"

"I've ever kissed," Maura supplies a little impatiently, "I just said that."

Ian nods, "Yeah, you did. That makes twice now that you said _you_ kissed _her_. Every other time we've talked about it, you say _she _kissed _you_. I think that's a pretty big deal."

Maura looks back at him, completely shocked.

Ian smiles and glances at his watch, his eyes widening. "C'mon," he says, standing, "we've both got class."

Maura stands, and follows Ian out of the cafeteria, her mind a million miles away.

…...

Maura doesn't get to tell Jane that she is not leaving for Thanksgiving until Wednesday night, when she spots the pianist in the Student Center, on the public phone by the mail boxes. She heads over to her quickly, excitement pumping through her, but stops when she gets close enough to hear Jane's words, which are coming harsh and fast.

"No…._no. _I'm not. I'm not a child anymore, legally, so you can't make me."

Jane pauses, and whatever is said makes her go pale with new anger. "You don't control me anymore. You don't pay for my school, I don't live under your roof. I don't need anything from you and I-"

She's cut off, and Maura watches her listen for a minute longer before slamming the phone down.

She spins away, from the little kiosk, running her hands through her hair, "Fucking bit-" she begins before looking up and seeing Maura. She stops dead.

"Hi," Maura says quietly. "I wasn't eavesdropping, I swear. I just saw you across the hall and-"

"Are you parents dicks?" Jane asks, stepping right up to Maura.

"W-wha?"

"Sorry," Jane rolls her shoulders. "I mean, do you ever just want to scream at the top of your lungs that...that time doesn't just make everything better? That age and understanding can actually sometimes make things _worse?_" She searches Maura's face. "Do you ever just want to...to…"

But Maura must look scared or confused, or a combination of the two, because Jane drops her hands, and looks away.

"Sorry," she says. "I just...sometimes I think it's a good idea to talk to my mother...and I'm always wrong."

Maura doesn't know what to say. It is the first time Jane has offered up information on her past voluntarily. Maura resists the urge to reach out and take Jane's hand.

"I'm sorry."

Jane shrugs. "Doesn't matter."

The dancer frowns. "Of course it does," she says, and when Jane looks up at her, she offers a smile. "_you_ matter. A great deal, Jane."

Jane looks taken aback, and they just stand there for a time, until the brunette seems to shake herself. "Why are you still here?" she asks.

Maura looks down at the floor, confused. "We were talking and I-"

Jane rolls her eyes, "No...Ms. Literal. I mean, why aren't you at home with your family? Thanksgiving? Turkey?"

"Oh," Maura blushes, "My mother and father are in Italy...they couldn't arrange for me to come out just for the four day weekend.

Jane looks at her a little skeptically. "I thought money could arrange anything," she says.

Maura makes a disgruntled noise. "Apparently not everything," she replies, mildly surprised at how bitter she sounds.

Jane seems surprised too, because she doesn't say anything for a moment, and then when she does speak, it comes out like a rush.

"I'm going to a soup kitchen if you want to go with me tomorrow night."

Maura's eyes widen, and Jane's mirror hers, a little panicky. "But if you don't I would totally understand-"

"No!" Maura smiles wide. "No! I would love to donate food with you! My family donates every year around the holidays."

Jane raises an eyebrow, "You go to soup kitchens?"

Maura frowns, "Go? No...we send food each year...is that...not what you're talking about?" She watches as Jane holds in a smart retort.

"No," the brunette says finally. "I mean actually going. I mean getting on the subway and going to ladle out soup and turkey and talk to the people and stuff. That's what my family did. You know…" she mumbles, "when we were still a family." She looks up from the floor at Maura, whose mind is racing.

"So?" she asks, and she almost manages not to sound hopeful. "You in?"

Maura does not say she's never been on the subway before. She does not say that the idea of meeting dozens, maybe hundreds of new people makes her a little weak with nerves. She holds on to the smidgeon of hope she'd heard in Jane's voice and she smiles up into the dark eyes.

"Yes," she says "I'm definitely in."

…...

Maura has never seen this side of Jane before. The ride to the soup kitchen is a whirl of metal sliding doors, and nauseous stops and starts. At one point, Maura forgets to hold onto one of the bars as they take off from a station, and Jane just manages to catch her around the waist before she topples head first into a row of seated passengers.

When they finally emerge, climbing the stairs up and into the chilly November wind, the tall buildings and friendly shop fronts have vanished, to be replaced by metal grates and cold, dark store fronts.

"Oh," Maura says, and Jane takes her arm, cautiously. She'd never imagined her donated food coming here...not in a million years.

.

The soup kitchen is in the back of a Catholic School, the auditorium converted into a cafeteria of sorts, and Maura cannot imagine a more dismal place to spend Thanksgiving. In the back of the place, there is a raised stage, with a dusty old piano sitting forlornly in front of an old greying curtain.

A smiling dark haired woman named Yvette greets them as they move further in, and they don aprons and pull their hair back, and stand in line with the other volunteers behind cavernous tureens of gravy and mountainous platters of turkey.

It is an eye opening experience. The phrase comes to Maura, and even though it feels stilted and lame, she cannot come up with a better one. She'd understood the general idea of where her family's donated food went, but there is something about donating time, actually looking at the people as she gives them their dinner, that feels deeper, more fulfilling.

She tries to smile at everyone who files past her, and she gives the little kids extra mashed potatoes when they shuffle through with their parents, but being surrounded by people who have no where else to go on Thanksgiving makes her feel a little achey with pity.

But Jane! If Jane feels the way Maura does, she is hiding it amazingly well. Maura watches her turn regular mashed potatoes into volcanoes of gravy, watches her talk honestly and earnestly to the parents and the older men and women, and she feels like there is a well of information on this girl that she has yet to plumb,

"She's a natural," Yvette says, coming up behind Maura and making her jump. "What's her story?"

"mm?" Maura turns, pretending she hasn't heard the question so she can have a chance to think of an answer.

"She said on the phone that you guys were a couple of college kids, but she's done this a bunch, right? It can be difficult, coming into a situation like this when you haven't before. Jane seems right at home though. Have you to done kitchens before?"  
"I...no...I mean...I haven't. I don't know about Jane," Maura says honestly, "and we are college students. We go to Julliard."

Yvette looks impressed. "No kidding! And you're slumming down here with us?" She looks Maura up and down, then Jane. "What are you two...dancers?"

Maura smiles, "I am...Jane plays the piano."

Yvette looks excited, and Maura realizes why too late. "What?" She asks excitedly. "No way. Jane!" She calls out to the brunette who is talking quietly to a mother of three in the corner of the room.

She looks around, her eyes falling on Yvette and then Maura, trying to find the cause for excitement.

"You play the piano?" Yvette cries as Jane makes her way over. "You should have said! There's one right up there!" She points to the dusty piano that Maura noticed on their way in.

Jane's face has gone blank.

"Play us something, Jane!"

The brunette shoots a glare that goes straight through Maura. "Oh...no...I...couldn't."

"Maura says you play the piano at _Julliard_. Don't tell me you can't...EVERYONE!" Yvette turns to the crowd, and Jane takes the opportunity to glare at Maura again.

"Everyone! We are so lucky to have two volunteers with us tonight from Juilliard! And...doubly lucky that one of them plays the _piano!_"

"I'm so sorry," Maura whispers, "I wasn't thinking...I-"

But Jane shakes her head, and makes her way towards the little stage at the back of the room. "It's fine," she says, and Maura can tell she's just flipped the switch from reluctant to committed. She's not going to say no. "It's fine."

She climbs up onto the stage, and turns to face the audience.

"Hi," she says, "And as nervous and hesitant as she looked before, her voice does not shake now. She does not shy away from the hundreds of eyes that are now all looking at her. "My name's Jane, that's my friend Maura…we're really happy to be here with you guys tonight...so I can play some stuff for you, I guess. What do you want to hear?"

"Play jingle bells!" A little kid yells out before his mother shushes him.

Jane chuckles, "I can do that...of course...so could a monkey."

This garners a laugh from the crowd, and Jane's smile softens as she relaxes.

"Play something for Thanksgiving! Play something for us to say Grace to!"

Jane's eyes darken, as she seeks out the person who's suggested this. It takes Maura a moment to understand why.

"Grace?" She asks quietly.

"Yeah...play something, for grace!"

There are murmurs of agreement, and Jane turns from them abruptly, facing the piano.  
For a moment it looks like she will get down from the stage, that she might walk out altogether. But then she sits down on the piano bench and puts her hands against the keys.

"Okay," she says, and her voice is a little lower, and a little rougher than it was a moment ago.

"Okay," she says again. "For Grace."

…...

_If you were there, you would have been proud. I wasn't letting the same mistakes_

_get me this time around._

_I was stuck in between a rock and a hard place._

_Wishin' for good advice, I was looking for you, Grace._

_Looking for grace…_

Maura is frozen. Every single part of her body seems to have gone numb. She's never heard this song before, and it is different than the pounding chords and intricate melodies that Jane usually plays. This song seems heavily reliant on her voice, the chords just running back up. Keeping Jane in the right key. Guiding her.

She's tied her hair back, to keep it away from the food she was serving, and so Maura has an unobstructed view of her profile, and the way, when she doesn't play, the soft skin of her temples jumps with concentration.

The chords might be simple, Maura thinks, but the lyrics are anything but.

_The clouds were there, the rain and the sun. Everybody showed up_

_to this party for one._

_I wasn't sure if you made it, through the rocky terrain_

_There was so much commotion, I couldn't see everything._

_Oh, but I was shouting Grace_

_I have a heart that's breaking._

_Just need some space to fall apart._

_I have been stubborn lately,_

_running from you, grace._

Grace. grace. Maura can hear the change, can understand the verbal shift by the way Jane curls herself around the notes each time. The way she holds them, and the way she lets them go, like a hand she doesn't want to release. Like she doesn't have a choice.

The song itself is difficult, misleading and challenging, double bridged and minor winding, the physical manifestation of Jane's internal struggle, and Maura realizes, as Jane's hands shift slightly to hit the minor fall that she needs, that the brunette must have written it herself. There is no other way that something could embody her so perfectly, so naturally.

_But what would they do without me to save once in a while from disharmony_

_And I am asking for patience, I just need some time_

_I have got some bad habits onto my mind._

_Have I fallen from you, grace?_

_Maybe we are dancing, cheek to cheek._

_And we could not be any closer and I still cannot reach…_

_grace._

Maura finds herself shaking her head. The song has pulled on something inside of her. Maybe it's the way she can see Jane reaching to hit the last notes of that bridge. The way she can so perfectly see her reaching for the _real _Grace. She looks up at the brunette now, trying to steady her breathing. Trying not to leap up and call out that Jane is the epitome of everything she thinks she lacks.

But the music quiets, and Jane opens her eyes, and looks down at her hands like she hadn't been fully aware that she was playing. Maura folds her hands together, holding her own fingers tight enough to turn her fingernails white.

_I know things aren't perfect. I push you away. I get so full of myself._

_And angry_

_And I know it is pride that keeps us apart_

_I think I am stronger with this wall round my heart_

_But I can't hold this wall up, Grace_

_I have a heart that's breaking._

_Just need some space to fall apart._

_I have been stubborn lately_

_running from you…Grace. _

The last note lingers. Maura realizes she's been holding her breath. For a moment there is complete and utter silence in the tiny cafeteria. Jane stares down at her hands, lost in her own mind, until a man in the back row starts to clap and cheer.  
Slowly, the others join in, until nearly everyone is clapping, and Jane looks up and around at them like she'd completely forgotten where she was.

"Good job, Janie!" A woman near Maura cries out, and the brunette's eyes settle on the woman, and then on Maura.

Maura is clapping too, clapping so hard that her hands hurt, and smiling up at the pianist, though her heart is screaming at her to get up! Go up there!

She doesn't. She stays in her seat, and looks up at Jane and tries to show with her face how beautiful and amazing the song was. She tries and maybe Jane understands, because slowly, like the first time a flower gets touched by the sun, Jane starts to smile too.

"Enough of this sad, heartfelt, mushy gushy crap!" An old man in the back yells. "Play something upbeat, girly! Play something to make the food taste better!"

Maura thinks that Jane is going to decline, that she'll step down from the piano, and defer to one of the volunteers. But she looks hard at the old man, like she's sizing him up, and then, without looking down at her hands, she begins to play a new song, fast and upbeat, and when Maura glances at the man again, she sees he is grinning from ear to ear.

"That's more like it!" He cries, before beginning to sing

_Give him a fire in his heart, give him a lion in his eyes. _

_Give him the wild wind for a brother, and the wild Montana skies. _

It's a song that Maura has never heard before, but by the end of the last chorus, Jane has people clapping. She catches Maura's eye as the song comes to an end, and then, much to Maura's surprise, she calls out. "Who's next?" She fixes them all with a glare that is both challenging and welcoming.  
"You can't stump this!" she cries.

A rush of sound fills the little auditorium as people rush to get their songs out before the person next to them.

Jane takes requests like a jukebox. Maura can only sit in the little plastic chair at the volunteer table and try to keep her mouth from hanging open in awe. The people at the soup kitchen are mostly older men and women, although there are some kids tagging along with their parents as well, and they shout titles and genres out to Jane as though she should know each person's private rolodex of favorite songs.

And maybe she does, Maura thinks, as plays the opening chords to a song, and a man and woman stand up and begin to dance with each other.

_I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop!_

_But if, baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top!_

Maura loves how expressive the brunette is when she plays. So many of their interactions for the past two weeks have been cloaked in a sort of guarded sarcasm, that Maura's forgotten what it's like to see Jane really _commit_ to something.

It occurs to Maura that even if the Jane she's been getting has been a bit sarcastic and a little teasing, that she has at least adapted in order to be around the dancer. That means she must _want _to be around her...doesn't it?

Maura is roused from her thoughts as Yvette rises from the seat next to her, along with maybe ten of the other volunteers, and belts out the chorus of the song that Jane is playing.

_This girl is on fiiiireeee. _

_This girl is on fireeee_

_She's walking on fireee_

_This girl is on fireeee_

up on the little raised platform, at the piano, Jane throws her head back and laughs.

Maura does not want to kiss anyone else.

…

They don't get back on the subway. Jane says that the subway stop they'd have to take is too risky after nightfall, and so they take refuge from the wind at a busstop, Jane flopping down onto the hard steel steet and looking away from Maura, up the road. It's nearly 10, on Thanksgiving, and the streets are as deserted as it is possible to get in NYC. Maura watches the back of Jane's head until she cannot stay silent any longer.

"You were amazing," she says quickly, "I mean...you are amazing everywhere, but especially in there, playing all those songs for those people...it really made their holiday. You're...well, you're amazing."

Jane turns her head slowly to look at her, and when their eyes meet, Maura shudders.

"You cold?" Jane asks, already unbuttoning her coat. "You want to wear this over your-"

"No," Maura shakes her head, though she can't helps smiling. "No, Jane, don't be ridiculous. I'm fine." Her declaration is undermined as she shivers again.

"You're cold," Jane says, "Come over here, sit next to me." She says it without thinking, and her eyes dart up to Maura's and then away when she realizes the implications of her words. "I mean," she adds weakly, "if you want to."

Maura moves closer, but doesn't sit. She inspects the hard metal of the bench. "Do you know how many germs the common bus bench has?"

Jane snorts, "If you could die from a bus bench, Maur, I'd be dead a thousand times over. You can sit. I promise not to let any germs bite you."

Up close, Jane still smells like turkey and gravy, and before she can really think her decision through, Maura sits down on her lap.

Jane stops breathing for a moment. "Uh...Maura?"

"Jane."

"You're sitting on my lap."

"Statistically speaking, your jeans are much less infectious than a bus stop bench."

"Is that compliment?" Maura feels Jane's hands come up to rest in the small of her back. They press her forwards, gently, and when Maura gives in, they slide up to her shoulders and back down, again and again and….

This was the right decision.

"Jane…" She can hear in her own voice that she is gearing up for a real conversation, and Jane must hear it as well, because her hands stop.

"Don't, Maura," she says quietly. "I'm just warming you up. I'm not coming on to you."

Maura bites her lip, and then lets it slide through her teeth. "I wish you were," she says quietly.

The hands stop again, for a second, and then continue on.

"What?" It's not really a question, just permission to go on.

"I…" Maura turns her head, looking into Jane's face. "I cant' do anything but think about you. Think about us. Think about when you...when we kissed."

Jane's hands tighten for a moment on Maura's back. "We kissed?" She asks slowly.

"Yes," Maura replies firmly. "We...kissed. And...I...it was wonderful."

"Was it?" Jane is whispering, like if she yells it will ruin the moment. Maura takes a breath, and slowly, she leans down and presses her lips to the exposed part of Jane's neck. "I danced for you," she says against the warmth of the brunette's skin. "I danced that way on Parent's Night for you, Jane. I know I've been dragging my feet and messing things up...and I can't make excuses for dating Garrett, but I just-"

But Jane dips her head and meets Maura's lips with her own.

And anything Maura was going to say is wiped completely from her mind. She wraps her arms around Jane's neck, and leans into the kiss.

She makes sure there is no way for Jane to run.


End file.
